Full Text

THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHRY CLINKER

by TOBIAS SMOLLETT

To Mr HENRY DAVIS, Bookseller, in London.

ABERGAVENNY, Aug. 4.

RESPECTED SIR,

I have received your esteemed favour of the 13th ultimo, whereby it

appeareth, that you have perused those same Letters, the which were

delivered unto you by my friend, the reverend Mr Hugo Behn; and I am

pleased to find you think they may be printed with a good prospect of

success; in as much as the objections you mention, I humbly conceive,

are such as may be redargued, if not entirely removed--And, first, in

the first place, as touching what prosecutions may arise from printing

the private correspondence of persons still living, give me leave, with

all due submission, to observe, that the Letters in question were not

written and sent under the seal of secrecy; that they have no tendency

to the mala fama, or prejudice of any person whatsoever; but rather to

the information and edification of mankind: so that it becometh a sort

of duty to promulgate them in usum publicum. Besides, I have consulted

Mr Davy Higgins, an eminent attorney of this place, who, after due

inspection and consideration, declareth, That he doth not think the said

Letters contain any matter which will be held actionable in the eye of

the law. Finally, if you and I should come to a right understanding, I

do declare in verbo sacerdotis, that, in case of any such prosecution,

I will take the whole upon my own shoulders, even quoad fine and

imprisonment, though, I must confess, I should not care to undergo

flagellation: Tam ad turpitudinem, quam ad amaritudinem poenoe

spectans--Secondly, concerning the personal resentment of Mr Justice

Lismahago, I may say, non flocci facio--I would not willingly vilipend

any Christian, if, peradventure, he deserveth that epithet: albeit, I

am much surprised that more care is not taken to exclude from the

commission all such vagrant foreigners as may be justly suspected of

disaffection to our happy constitution, in church and state--God forbid

that I should be so uncharitable, as to affirm, positively, that the

said Lismahago is no better than a Jesuit in disguise; but this I will

assert and maintain, totis viribus, that, from the day he qualified, he

has never been once seen intra templi parietes, that is to say, within

the parish church.

Thirdly, with respect to what passed at Mr Kendal’s table, when the said

Lismahago was so brutal in his reprehensions, I must inform you, my good

Sir, that I was obliged to retire, not by fear arising from his minatory

reproaches, which, as I said above, I value not of a rush; but from the

sudden effect produced, by a barbel’s row, which I had eaten at

dinner, not knowing, that the said row is at certain seasons violently

cathartic, as Galen observeth in his chapter Peri ichtos.

Fourthly, and lastly, with reference to the manner in which I got

possession of these Letters, it is a circumstance that concerns my own

conscience only; sufficeth it to say, I have fully satisfied the parties

in whose custody they were; and, by this time, I hope I have also

satisfied you in such ways, that the last hand may be put to our

agreement, and the work proceed with all convenient expedition; in which

I hope I rest,

Respected Sir, Your very humble servant,

JONATHAN DUSTWICH.

P.S. I propose, Deo volente, to have the pleasure of seeing you in the

great city, towards All-hallowtide, when I shall be glad to treat with

you concerning a parcel of MS. sermons, of a certain clergyman deceased;

a cake of the right leaven, for the present taste of the public. Verbum

sapienti, &c.

J.D.

To the Revd. Mr JONATHAN DUSTWICH, at--

SIR,

I received yours in course of post, and shall be glad to treat with you

for the M.S. which I have delivered to your friend Mr Behn; but can

by no means comply with the terms proposed. Those things are so

uncertain--Writing is all a lottery--I have been a loser by the works

of the greatest men of the age--I could mention particulars, and name

names; but don’t choose it--The taste of the town is so changeable.

Then there have been so many letters upon travels lately published--What

between Smollett’s, Sharp’s, Derrick’s, Thicknesse’s, Baltimore’s, and

Baretti’s, together with Shandy’s Sentimental Travels, the public seems

to be cloyed with that kind of entertainment--Nevertheless, I will,

if you please, run the risque of printing and publishing, and you shall

have half the profits of the impression--You need not take the trouble

to bring up your sermons on my account--No body reads sermons but

Methodists and Dissenters--Besides, for my own part, I am quite a

stranger to that sort of reading; and the two persons, whose judgment I

depended upon in those matters, are out of the way; one is gone abroad,

carpenter of a man of war; and the other, has been silly enough to

abscond, in order to avoid a prosecution for blasphemy--I’m a great

loser by his going off--He has left a manual of devotion half finished

on my hands, after having received money for the whole copy--He was the

soundest divine, and had the most orthodox pen of all my people; and I

never knew his judgment fail, but in flying from his bread and butter on

this occasion.

By owning you was not put in bodily fear by Lismahago, you preclude

yourself from the benefit of a good plea, over and above the advantage

of binding him over. In the late war, I inserted in my evening paper,

a paragraph that came by the post, reflecting upon the behaviour of a

certain regiment in battle. An officer of said regiment came to my shop,

and, in the presence of my wife and journeyman, threatened to cut off

my ears--As I exhibited marks of bodily fear more ways than one, to the

conviction of the byestanders, I bound him over; my action lay, and I

recovered. As for flagellation, you have nothing to fear, and nothing to

hope, on that head--There has been but one printer flogged at the cart’s

tail these thirty years; that was Charles Watson; and he assured me it

was no more than a flea-bite. C-- S-- has been threatened several times

by the House of L--; but it came to nothing. If an information should

be moved for, and granted against you, as the editor of those Letters,

I hope you will have honesty and wit enough to appear and take your

trial--If you should be sentenced to the pillory, your fortune is

made--As times go, that’s a sure step to honour and preferment. I shall

think myself happy if I can lend you a lift; and am, very sincerely,

Yours,

HENRY DAVIS. LONDON, Aug. 10th.

Please my kind service to your neighbour, my cousin Madoc--I have

sent an Almanack and Court-kalendar, directed for him at Mr Sutton’s,

bookseller, in Gloucester, carriage paid, which he will please to accept

as a small token of my regard. My wife, who is very fond of toasted

cheese, presents her compliments to him, and begs to know if there’s any

of that kind, which he was so good as to send us last Christmas, to be

sold in London.

H. D.

THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHRY CLINKER

To Dr LEWIS.

DOCTOR,

The pills are good for nothing--I might as well swallow snowballs to

cool my reins--I have told you over and over how hard I am to move; and

at this time of day, I ought to know something of my own constitution.

Why will you be so positive? Prithee send me another prescription--I am

as lame and as much tortured in all my limbs as if I was broke upon the

wheel: indeed, I am equally distressed in mind and body--As if I had not

plagues enough of my own, those children of my sister are left me for a

perpetual source of vexation--what business have people to get children

to plague their neighbours? A ridiculous incident that happened

yesterday to my niece Liddy, has disordered me in such a manner, that

I expect to be laid up with another fit of the gout--perhaps, I may

explain myself in my next. I shall set out tomorrow morning for the

Hot Well at Bristol, where I am afraid I shall stay longer than I could

wish. On the receipt of this send Williams thither with my saddle-horse

and the demi pique. Tell Barns to thresh out the two old ricks, and send

the corn to market, and sell it off to the poor at a shilling a bushel

under market price.--I have received a snivelling letter from Griffin,

offering to make a public submission and pay costs. I want none of his

submissions, neither will I pocket any of his money. The fellow is a bad

neighbour, and I desire, to have nothing to do with him: but as he is

purse-proud, he shall pay for his insolence: let him give five pounds to

the poor of the parish, and I will withdraw my action; and in the mean

time you may tell Prig to stop proceedings.--Let Morgan’s widow have the

Alderney cow, and forty shillings to clothe her children: but don’t say

a syllable of the matter to any living soul--I’ll make her pay when she

is able. I desire you will lock up all my drawers, and keep the keys

till meeting; and be sure you take the iron chest with my papers into

your own custody--Forgive all, this trouble from,

Dear Lewis, Your affectionate M. BRAMBLE GLOUCESTER, April 2.

To Mrs GWYLLIM, house-keeper at Brambleton-hall.

MRS GWILLIM,

When this cums to hand, be sure to pack up in the trunk male that stands

in my closet; to be sent me in the Bristol waggon without loss of time,

the following articles, viz. my rose collard neglejay with green robins,

my yellow damask, and my black velvets with the short hoop; my bloo

quilted petticot, my green mantel, my laced apron, my French commode,

Macklin head and lappets and the litel box with my jowls. Williams may

bring over my bum-daffee, and the viol with the easings of Dr Hill’s

dockwater and Chowder’s lacksitif. The poor creature has been terribly

stuprated ever since we left huom. Pray take particular care of the

house while the family is absent. Let there be a fire constantly kept in

my brother’s chamber and mine. The maids, having nothing to do, may be

sat a spinning. I desire you’ll clap a pad-luck on the wind-seller, and

let none of the men have excess to the strong bear--don’t forget to have

the gate shit every evening be dark--The gardnir and the hind may lie

below in the landry, to partake the house, with the blunderbuss and the

great dog; and hope you’ll have a watchful eye over the maids. I know

that hussy Mary Jones, loves to be rumping with the men. Let me know

Alderney’s calf be sould yet, and what he fought--if the ould goose be

sitting; and if the cobler has cut Dicky, and how pore anemil bore the

operation. No more at present, but rests,

Yours, TABITHA BRAMBLE GLOSTAR, April 2.

TO Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall.

DEAR MOLLY,

Heaving this importunity, I send, my love to you and Saul, being in good

health, and hoping to hear the same from you; and that you and Saul will

take my poor kitten to bed with you this cold weather. We have been all

in, a sad taking here at Glostar--Miss Liddy had like to have run away

with a player-man, and young master and he would adone themselves a

mischief; but the squire applied to the mare, and they were, bound

over.--Mistress bid me not speak a word of the matter to any Christian

soul--no more I shall; for, we servints should see all and say nothing--

But what was worse than all this, Chowder has had the misfortune to be

worried by a butcher’s dog, and came home in a terrible pickle--Mistress

was taken with the asterisks, but they soon went off. The doctor was

sent for to Chowder, and he subscribed a repository which did him great

service--thank God he’s now in a fair way to do well--pray take care

of my box and the pillyber and put them under your own bed; for, I do

suppose madam, Gwyllim will be a prying into my secrets, now my back is

turned. John Thomas is in good health, but sulky. The squire gave away

an ould coat to a poor man; and John says as, how ‘tis robbing him of

his perquisites.--I told him, by his agreement he was to receive

no vails; but he says as how there’s a difference betwixt vails and

perquisites; and so there is for sartain. We are all going to the Hot

Well, where I shall drink your health in a glass of water, being,

Dear Molly, Your humble servant to command, W. JENKINS GLOSTAR, April

2nd.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

As I have nothing more at heart than to convince you I am incapable of

forgetting, or neglecting the friendship I made at college, now begin

that correspondence by letters, which you and I agreed, at parting, to

cultivate. I begin it sooner than I intended, that you may have it in

your power to refute any idle reports which may be circulated to my

prejudice at Oxford, touching a foolish quarrel, in which I have been

involved on account of my sister, who had been some time settled here

in a boarding-school. When I came hither with my uncle and aunt (who

are our guardians) to fetch her away, I found her a fine tall girl, of

seventeen, with an agreeable person; but remarkably simple, and quite

ignorant of the world. This disposition, and want of experience, had

exposed her to the addresses of a person--I know not what to call

him, who had seen her at a play; and, with a confidence and dexterity

peculiar to himself, found means to be recommended to her acquaintance.

It was by the greatest accident I intercepted one of his letters; as

it was my duty to stifle this correspondence in its birth, I made it my

business to find him out, and tell him very freely my sentiments of

the matter. The spark did not like the stile I used, and behaved with

abundance of mettle. Though his rank in life (which, by the bye, I am

ashamed to declare) did not entitle him to much deference; yet as his

behaviour was remarkably spirited, I admitted him to the privilege of

a gentleman, and something might have happened, had not we been

prevented.--In short, the business took air, I know not how, and made

abundance of noise--recourse was had to justice--I was obliged to give

my word and honour, &c. and to-morrow morning we set out for Bristol

Wells, where I expect to hear from you by the return of the post.--I

have got into a family of originals, whom I may one day attempt to

describe for your amusement. My aunt, Mrs Tabitha Bramble, is a maiden

of forty-five, exceedingly starched, vain, and ridiculous.--My uncle is

an odd kind of humorist, always on the fret, and so unpleasant in his

manner, that rather than be obliged to keep him company, I’d resign all

claim to the inheritance of his estate. Indeed his being tortured by the

gout may have soured his temper, and, perhaps, I may like him better on

further acquaintance; certain it is, all his servants and neighbours in

the country are fond of him, even to a degree of enthusiasm, the reason

of which I cannot as yet comprehend. Remember me to Griffy Price, Gwyn,

Mansel, Basset, and all the rest of my old Cambrian companions.--Salute

the bedmaker in my name--give my service to the cook, and pray take care

of poor Ponto, for the sake of his old master, who is, and ever will be,

Dear Phillips, Your affectionate friend, and humble servant, JER.

MELFORD GLOUCESTER, April 2.

To Mrs JERMYN at her house in Gloucester.

DEAR MADAM,

Having no mother of my own, I hope you will give me leave to disburden

my poor heart to you, who have always acted the part of a kind parent to

me, ever since I was put under your care. Indeed, and indeed, my worthy

governess may believe me, when I assure her, that I never harboured

a thought that was otherwise than virtuous; and, if God will give me

grace, I shall never behave so as to cast a reflection on the care you

have taken in my education. I confess I have given just cause of offence

by my want of prudence and experience. I ought not to have listened to

what the young man said; and it was my duty to have told you all that

passed, but I was ashamed to mention it; and then he behaved so modest

and respectful, and seemed to be so melancholy and timorous, that

I could not find in my heart to do any thing that should make him

miserable and desperate. As for familiarities, I do declare, I never

once allowed him the favour of a: salute; and as to the few letters that

passed between us, they are all in my uncle’s hands, and I hope they

contain nothing contrary to innocence and honour.--I am still persuaded

that he is not what he appears to be: but time will discover--mean while

I will endeavour to forget a connexion, which is so displeasing to my

family. I have cried without ceasing, and have not tasted any thing but

tea, since I was hurried away from you; nor did I once close my eyes for

three nights running.--My aunt continues to chide me severely when we

are by ourselves; but I hope to soften her in time, by humility

and submission.--My uncle, who was so dreadfully passionate in the

beginning, has been moved by my tears and distress; and is now all

tenderness and compassion; and my brother is reconciled to me on my

promise to break off all correspondence with that unfortunate youth;

but, notwithstanding all their indulgence, I shall have no peace of mind

till I know my dear and ever honoured governess has forgiven her poor,

disconsolate, forlorn,

Affectionate humble servant, till death, LYDIA MELFORD CLIFTON, April 6.

To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester.

MY DEAREST LETTY,

I am in such a fright, lest this should not come safe to hand by the

conveyance of Jarvis the carrier, that I beg you will write me, on the

receipt of it, directing to me, under cover, to Mrs Winifred Jenkins,

my aunt’s maid, who is a good girl, and has been so kind to me in my

affliction, that I have made her my confidant; as for Jarvis, he was

very shy of taking charge of my letter and the little parcel, because

his sister Sally had like to have lost her place on my account: indeed

I cannot blame the man for his caution; but I have made it worth his

while.--My dear companion and bed-fellow, it is a grievous addition to

my other misfortunes, that I am deprived of your agreeable company and

conversation, at a time when I need so much the comfort of your good

humour and good sense; but, I hope, the friendship we contracted at

boarding-school, will last for life--I doubt not but on my side it will

daily increase and improve, as I gain experience, and learn to know the

value of a true friend. O, my dear Letty! what shall I say about poor

Mr Wilson? I have promised to break off all correspondence, and, if

possible, to forget him: but, alas! I begin to perceive that will not be

in my power. As it is by no means proper that the picture should remain

in my hands, lest it should be the occasion of more mischief, I have

sent it to you by this opportunity, begging you will either keep it safe

till better times, or return it to Mr Wilson himself, who, I suppose,

will make it his business to see you at the usual place. If he should be

low-spirited at my sending back his picture, you may tell him I have no

occasion for a picture, while the original continues engraved on my--But

no; I would not have you tell him that neither; because there must be an

end of our correspondence--I wish he may forget me, for the sake of

his own peace; and yet if he should, he must be a barbarous--But it is

impossible--poor Wilson cannot be false and inconstant: I beseech

him not to write to me, nor attempt to see me for some time; for,

considering the resentment and passionate temper of my brother Jery,

such an attempt might be attended with consequences which would make

us all miserable for life--let us trust to time and the chapter of

accidents; or rather to that Providence which will not fail, sooner or

later, to reward those that walk in the paths of honour and virtue. I

would offer my love to the young ladies; but it is not fit that any of

them should know you have received this letter.--If we go to Bath,

I shall send you my simple remarks upon that famous center of polite

amusement, and every other place we may chance to visit; and I flatter

myself that my dear Miss Willis will be punctual in answering the

letters of her affectionate,

LYDIA MELFORD CLIFTON, April 6.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR LEWIS,

I have followed your directions with some success, and might have

been upon my legs by this time, had the weather permitted me to use my

saddle-horse. I rode out upon the Downs last Tuesday, in the forenoon,

when the sky, as far as the visible horizon, was without a cloud; but

before I had gone a full mile, I was overtaken instantaneously by a

storm of rain that wet me to the skin in three minutes--whence it came

the devil knows; but it has laid me up (I suppose) for one fortnight.

It makes me sick to hear people talk of the fine air upon Clifton-downs:

How can the air be either agreeable or salutary, where the demon of

vapours descends in a perpetual drizzle? My confinement is the more

intolerable, as I am surrounded with domestic vexations. My niece has

had a dangerous fit of illness, occasioned by that cursed incident at

Gloucester, which I mentioned in my last.--She is a poor good-natured

simpleton, as soft as butter, and as easily melted--not that she’s a

fool--the girl’s parts are not despicable, and her education has not

been neglected; that is to say, she can write and spell, and speak

French, and play upon the harpsichord; then she dances finely, has a

good figure, and is very well inclined; but, she’s deficient in spirit,

and so susceptible--and so tender forsooth!--truly, she has got a

languishing eye, and reads romances.--Then there’s her brother, ‘squire

Jery, a pert jackanapes, full of college-petulance and self-conceit;

proud as a German count, and as hot and hasty as a Welch mountaineer. As

for that fantastical animal, my sister Tabby, you are no stranger to her

qualifications--I vow to God, she is sometimes so intolerable, that I

almost think she’s the devil incarnate come to torment me for my

sins; and yet I am conscious of no sins that ought to entail such

family-plagues upon me--why the devil should not I shake off these

torments at once? I an’t married to Tabby, thank Heaven! nor did I beget

the other two: let them choose another guardian: for my part I an’t in

a condition to take care of myself; much less to superintend the

conduct of giddy-headed boys and girls. You earnestly desire to know the

particulars of our adventure at Gloucester, which are briefly these, and

I hope they will go no further:--Liddy had been so long copped up in a

boarding-school, which, next to a nunnery, is the worst kind of seminary

that ever was contrived for young women, that she became as inflammable

as touch-wood; and going to a play in holiday-time,--‘sdeath, I’m

ashamed to tell you! she fell in love with one of the actors--a handsome

young fellow that goes by the name of Wilson. The rascal soon perceived

the impression he had made, and managed matters so as to see her at

a house where she went to drink tea with her governess.--This was the

beginning of a correspondence, which they kept up by means of a jade

of a milliner, who made and dressed caps for the girls at the

boarding-school. When we arrived at Gloucester, Liddy came to stay at

lodgings with her aunt, and Wilson bribed the maid to deliver a letter

into her own hands; but it seems Jery had already acquired so much

credit with the maid (by what means he best knows) that she carried

the letter to him, and so the whole plot was discovered. The rash boy,

without saying a word of the matter to me, went immediately in search

of Wilson; and, I suppose, treated him with insolence enough. The

theatrical hero was too far gone in romance to brook such usage: he

replied in blank verse, and a formal challenge ensued. They agreed to

meet early next morning and decide the dispute with sword and pistol. I

heard nothing at all of the affair, till Mr Morley came to my bed-side

in the morning, and told me he was afraid my nephew was going to fight,

as he had been overheard talking very loud and vehement with Wilson

at the young man’s lodgings the night before, and afterwards went

and bought powder and ball at a shop in the neighbourhood. I got up

immediately, and upon inquiry found he was just going out. I begged

Morley to knock up the mayor, that he might interpose as a magistrate,

and in the mean time I hobbled after the squire, whom I saw at a

distance walking at a great pace towards the city gate--in spite of all

my efforts, I could not come up till our two combatants had taken their

ground, and were priming their pistols. An old house luckily screened

me from their view; so that I rushed upon them at once, before I was

perceived. They were both confounded, and attempted to make their escape

different ways; but Morley coming up with constables, at that instant,

took Wilson into custody, and Jery followed him quietly to the mayor’s

house. All this time I was ignorant of what had passed the preceding

day; and neither of the parties would discover a tittle of the matter.

The mayor observed that it was great presumption in Wilson, who was a

stroller, to proceed to such extremities with a gentleman of family and

fortune; and threatened to commit him on the vagrant act.--The young

fellow bustled up with great spirit, declaring he was a gentleman, and

would be treated as such; but he refused to explain himself further. The

master of the company being sent for, and examined, touching the said

Wilson, said the young man had engaged with him at Birmingham about six

months ago; but never would take his salary; that he had behaved so well

in his private character, as to acquire the respect and good-will of all

his acquaintance, and that the public owned his merit as an actor was

altogether extraordinary.--After all, I fancy, he will turn out to be a

run-away prentice from London.--The manager offered to bail him for any

sum, provided he would give his word and honour that he would keep the

peace; but the young gentleman was on his high ropes, and would by no

means lay himself under any restrictions: on the other hand, Hopeful was

equally obstinate; till at length the mayor declared, that if they

both refused to be bound over, he would immediately commit Wilson as a

vagrant to hard labour. I own I was much pleased with Jery’s behaviour

on this occasion: he said, that rather than Mr Wilson should be treated

in such an ignominious manner, he would give his word and honour

to prosecute the affair no further while they remained at

Gloucester--Wilson thanked him for his generous manner of proceeding,

and was discharged. On our return to our lodgings, my nephew explained

the whole mystery; and I own I was exceedingly incensed--Liddy being

questioned on the subject, and very severely reproached by that wildcat

my sister Tabby, first swooned away, then dissolving in a flood of

tears, confessed all the particulars of the correspondence, at the same

time giving up three letters, which was all she had received from her

admirer. The last, which Jery intercepted, I send you inclosed, and when

you have read it, I dare say you won’t wonder at the progress the writer

had made in the heart of a simple girl, utterly unacquainted with the

characters of mankind. Thinking it was high time to remove her from such

a dangerous connexion, I carried her off the very next day to Bristol;

but the poor creature was so frightened and fluttered, by our threats

and expostulations, that she fell sick the fourth day after our arrival

at Clifton, and continued so ill for a whole week, that her life was

despaired of. It was not till yesterday that Dr Rigge declared her out

of danger. You cannot imagine what I have suffered, partly from the

indiscretion of this poor child, but much more from the fear of

losing her entirely. This air is intolerably cold, and the place quite

solitary--I never go down to the Well without returning low-spirited;

for there I meet with half a dozen poor emaciated creatures, with

ghostly looks, in the last stage of a consumption, who have made shift

to linger through the winter like so many exotic plants languishing in a

hot-house; but in all appearance, will drop into their graves before

the sun has warmth enough to mitigate the rigour of this ungenial

spring.--If you think the Bath-water will be of any service to me, I

will go thither so soon as my niece can bear the motion of the coach.

Tell Barns I am obliged to him for his advice; but don’t choose to

follow it. If Davis voluntarily offers to give up the farm, the other

shall have it; but I will not begin at this time of day to distress my

tenants, because they are unfortunate, and cannot make regular payments:

I wonder that Barns should think me capable of such oppression--As for

Higgins, the fellow is a notorious poacher, to be sure; and an impudent

rascal to set his snares in my own paddock; but, I suppose, he thought

he had some right (especially in my absence) to partake of what nature

seems to have intended for common use--you may threaten him in my name,

as much as you please, and if he repeats the offence, let me know it

before you have recourse to justice.--I know you are a great sportsman,

and oblige many of your friends: I need not tell you to make use of my

grounds; but it may be necessary to hint, that I am more afraid of my

fowling-piece than of my game. When you can spare two or three brace of

partridges, send them over by the stagecoach, and tell Gwyllim that she

forgot to pack up my flannel and wide shoes in the trunk-mail--I shall

trouble you as usual, from time to time, till at last I suppose you will

be tired of corresponding with

Your assured friend, M. BRAMBLE CLIFTON, April 17.

To Miss LYDIA MELFORD.

Miss Willis has pronounced my doom--you are going away, dear Miss

Melford!--you are going to be removed, I know not whither! what shall I

do? which way shall I turn for consolation? I know not what I say--all

night long have I been tossed in a sea of doubts and fears, uncertainty

and distraction, without being able to connect my thoughts, much less to

form any consistent plan of conduct--I was even tempted to wish that

I had never seen you; or that you had been less amiable, or less

compassionate to your poor Wilson; and yet it would be detestable

ingratitude in me to form such a wish, considering how much I am

indebted to your goodness, and the ineffable pleasure I have derived

from your indulgence and approbation--Good God! I never heard your name

mentioned without emotion! the most distant prospect of being admitted

to your company, filled my whole soul with a kind of pleasing alarm! as

the time approached, my heart beat with redoubled force, and every

nerve thrilled with a transport of expectation; but, when I found myself

actually in your presence;--when I heard you speak;--when I saw you

smile; when I beheld your charming eyes turned favourably upon me; my

breast was filled with such tumults of delight, as wholly deprived me of

the power of utterance, and wrapt me in a delirium of joy!--encouraged

by your sweetness of temper and affability, I ventured to describe the

feelings of my heart--even then you did not check my presumption--you

pitied my sufferings and gave me leave to hope you put a

favourable--perhaps too favourable a construction, on my

appearance--certain it is, I am no player in love--I speak the language

of my own heart; and have no prompter but nature. Yet there is something

in this heart, which I have not yet disclosed.--I flattered myself--But,

I will not--I must not proceed. Dear Miss Liddy! for Heaven’s sake,

contrive, if possible, some means of letting me speak to you before you

leave Gloucester; otherwise, I know not what will--But I begin to rave

again.--I will endeavour to bear this trial with fortitude--while I am

capable of reflecting upon your tenderness and truth, I surely have no

cause to despair--a cloud hangs over me, and there is a dreadful weight

upon my spirits! While you stay in this place, I shall continually hover

about your lodgings, as the parted soul is said to linger about the

grave where its mortal comfort lies.--I know, if it is in your power,

you will task your humanity--your compassion--shall I add, your

affection?--in order to assuage the almost intolerable disquiet that

torments the heart of your afflicted,

WILSON GLOUCESTER, March 31.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

HOT WELL, April 18.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

I give Mansel credit for his invention, in propagating the report that I

had a quarrel with a mountebank’s merry Andrew at Gloucester: but I have

too much respect for every appendage of wit, to quarrel even with the

lowest buffoonery; and therefore I hope Mansel and I shall always be

good friends. I cannot, however, approve of his drowning my poor

dog Ponto, on purpose to convert Ovid’s pleonasm into a punning

epitaph,--deerant quoque Littora Ponto: for, that he threw him into the

Isis, when it was so high and impetuous, with no other view than to kill

the fleas, is an excuse that will not hold water--But I leave poor Ponto

to his fate, and hope Providence will take care to accommodate Mansel

with a drier death.

As there is nothing that can be called company at the Well, I am here

in a state of absolute rustication: This, however, gives me leisure to

observe the singularities in my uncle’s character, which seems to have

interested your curiosity. The truth is, his disposition and mine,

which, like oil and vinegar, repelled one another at first, have now

begun to mix by dint of being beat up together. I was once apt to

believe him a complete Cynic; and that nothing but the necessity of his

occasions could compel him to get within the pale of society--I am now

of another opinion. I think his peevishness arises partly from bodily

pain, and partly from a natural excess of mental sensibility; for, I

suppose, the mind as well as the body, is in some cases endued with a

morbid excess of sensation.

I was t’other day much diverted with a conversation that passed in the

Pump-room, betwixt him and the famous Dr L--n, who is come to ply at the

Well for patients. My uncle was complaining of the stink, occasioned

by the vast quantity of mud and slime which the river leaves at low ebb

under the windows of the Pumproom. He observed, that the exhalations

arising from such a nuisance, could not but be prejudicial to the weak

lungs of many consumptive patients, who came to drink the water. The

Doctor overhearing this remark, made up to him, and assured him he was

mistaken. He said, people in general were so misled by vulgar prejudices

that philosophy was hardly sufficient to undeceive them. Then humming

thrice, he assumed a most ridiculous solemnity of aspect, and entered

into a learned investigation of the nature of stink. He observed,

that stink, or stench, meant no more than a strong impression on

the olfactory nerves; and might be applied to substances of the most

opposite qualities; that in the Dutch language, stinken signifies the

most agreeable perfume, as well as the most fetid odour, as appears in

Van Vloudel’s translation of Horace, in that beautiful ode, Quis multa

gracilis, &c.--The words fiquidis perfusus odoribus, he translates van

civet & moschata gestinken: that individuals differed toto coelo in

their opinion of smells, which, indeed, was altogether as arbitrary

as the opinion of beauty; that the French were pleased with the putrid

effluvia of animal food; and so were the Hottentots in Africa, and the

Savages in Greenland; and that the Negroes on the coast of Senegal would

not touch fish till it was rotten; strong presumptions in favour of what

is generally called stink, as those nations are in a state of nature,

undebauched by luxury, unseduced by whim and caprice: that he had reason

to believe the stercoraceous flavour, condemned by prejudice as a stink,

was, in fact, most agreeable to the organs of smelling; for, that every

person who pretended to nauseate the smell of another’s excretions,

snuffed up his own with particular complacency; for the truth of which

he appealed to all the ladies and gentlemen then present: he said, the

inhabitants of Madrid and Edinburgh found particular satisfaction

in breathing their own atmosphere, which was always impregnated with

stercoraceous effluvia: that the learned Dr B--, in his treatise on the

Four Digestions, explains in what manner the volatile effluvia from the

intestines stimulate and promote the operations of the animal economy:

he affirmed, the last Grand Duke of Tuscany, of the Medicis family,

who refined upon sensuality with the spirit of a philosopher, was so

delighted with that odour, that he caused the essence of ordure to be

extracted, and used it as the most delicious perfume: that he himself

(the doctor) when he happened to be low-spirited, or fatigued with

business, found immediate relief and uncommon satisfaction from hanging

over the stale contents of a close-stool, while his servant stirred it

about under his nose; nor was this effect to be wondered at, when we

consider that this substance abounds with the self-same volatile salts

that are so greedily smelled to by the most delicate invalids, after

they have been extracted and sublimed by the chemists.--By this time the

company began to hold their noses; but the doctor, without taking

the least notice of this signal, proceeded to shew, that many fetid

substances were not only agreeable but salutary; such as assa foetida,

and other medicinal gums, resins, roots, and vegetables, over and above

burnt feathers, tan-pits, candle-snuffs, &c. In short, he used many

learned arguments to persuade his audience out of their senses; and from

stench made a transition to filth, which he affirmed was also a mistaken

idea, in as much as objects so called, were no other than certain

modifications of matter, consisting of the same principles that enter

into the composition of all created essences, whatever they may be: that

in the filthiest production of nature, a philosopher considered nothing

but the earth, water, salt and air, of which it was compounded; that,

for his own part, he had no more objections to drinking the dirtiest

ditch-water, than he had to a glass of water from the Hot Well, provided

he was assured there was nothing poisonous in the concrete. Then

addressing himself to my uncle, ‘Sir (said he) you seem to be of a

dropsical habit, and probably will soon have a confirmed ascites: if

I should be present when you are tapped, I will give you a convincing

proof of what I assert, by drinking without hesitation the water

that comes out of your abdomen.’--The ladies made wry faces at this

declaration, and my uncle, changing colour, told him he did not desire

any such proof of his philosophy: ‘But I should be glad to know (said

he) what makes you think I am of a dropsical habit?’ ‘Sir, I beg pardon

(replied the Doctor) I perceive your ancles are swelled, and you seem to

have the facies leucophlegmatica. Perhaps, indeed, your disorder may

be oedematous, or gouty, or it may be the lues venerea: If you have any

reason to flatter yourself it is this last, sir, I will undertake

to cure you with three small pills, even if the disease should have

attained its utmost inveteracy. Sir, it is an arcanum, which I have

discovered, and prepared with infinite labour.--Sir, I have lately cured

a woman in Bristol--a common prostitute, sir, who had got all the worst

symptoms of the disorder; such as nodi, tophi, and gummata, verruca,

cristoe Galli, and a serpiginous eruption, or rather a pocky itch

all over her body. By the time she had taken the second pill, sir, by

Heaven! she was as smooth as my hand, and the third made her sound and

as fresh as a new born infant.’ ‘Sir (cried my uncle peevishly) I have

no reason to flatter myself that my disorder comes within the efficacy

of your nostrum. But this patient you talk of may not be so sound at

bottom as you imagine.’ ‘I can’t possibly be mistaken (rejoined the

philosopher) for I have had communication with her three times--I always

ascertain my cures in that manner.’ At this remark, all the ladies

retired to another corner of the room, and some of them began to

spit.--As to my uncle, though he was ruffled at first by the doctor’s

saying he was dropsical, he could not help smiling at this ridiculous

confession and, I suppose, with a view to punish this original, told

him there was a wart upon his nose, that looked a little suspicious. ‘I

don’t pretend to be a judge of those matters (said he) but I understand

that warts are often produced by the distemper; and that one upon your

nose seems to have taken possession of the very keystone of the

bridge, which I hope is in no danger of falling.’ L--n seemed a little

confounded at this remark, and assured him it was nothing but a common

excrescence of the cuticula, but that the bones were all sound below;

for the truth of this assertion he appealed to the touch, desiring he

would feel the part. My uncle said it was a matter of such delicacy to

meddle with a gentleman’s nose, that he declined the office--upon which,

the Doctor turning to me, intreated me to do him that favour. I complied

with his request, and handled it so roughly, that he sneezed, and the

tears ran down his cheeks, to the no small entertainment of the company,

and particularly of my uncle, who burst out a-laughing for the first

time since I have been with him; and took notice, that the part seemed

to be very tender. ‘Sir (cried the Doctor) it is naturally a tender

part; but to remove all possibility of doubt, I will take off the wart

this very night.’

So saying, he bowed, with great solemnity all round, and retired to his

own lodgings, where he applied a caustic to the wart; but it spread in

such a manner as to produce a considerable inflammation, attended with

an enormous swelling; so that when he next appeared, his whole face was

overshadowed by this tremendous nozzle; and the rueful eagerness with

which he explained this unlucky accident, was ludicrous beyond all

description.--I was much pleased with meeting the original of a

character, which you and I have often laughed at in description; and

what surprises me very much, I find the features in the picture, which

has been drawn for him, rather softened than over-charged.

As I have something else to say; and this letter has run to an

unconscionable length, I shall now give you a little respite, and

trouble you again by the very first post. I wish you would take it in

your head to retaliate these double strokes upon

Yours always, J. MELFORD

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

HOT WELL, April 20.

DEAR KNIGHT,

I now sit down to execute the threat in the tail of my last. The truth

is, I am big with the secret, and long to be delivered. It relates to my

guardian, who, you know, is at present our principal object in view.

T’other day, I thought I had detected him in such a state of frailty, as

would but ill become his years and character. There is a decent sort of

woman, not disagreeable in her person, that comes to the Well, with a

poor emaciated child, far gone in a consumption. I had caught my uncle’s

eyes several times directed to this person, with a very suspicious

expression in them, and every time he saw himself observed, he hastily

withdrew them, with evident marks of confusion--I resolved to watch him

more narrowly, and saw him speaking to her privately in a corner of the

walk. At length, going down to the Well one day, I met her half way up

the hill to Clifton, and could not help suspecting she was going to our

lodgings by appointment, as it was about one o’clock, the hour when my

sister and I are generally at the Pump-room.--This notion exciting my

curiosity, I returned by a back-way, and got unperceived into my own

chamber, which is contiguous to my uncle’s apartment. Sure enough, the

woman was introduced but not into his bedchamber; he gave her audience

in a parlour; so that I was obliged to shift my station to another room,

where, however, there was a small chink in the partition, through which

I could perceive what passed. My uncle, though a little lame, rose up

when she came in, and setting a chair for her, desired she would sit

down: then he asked if she would take a dish of chocolate, which she

declined, with much acknowledgment. After a short pause, he said, in a

croaking tone of voice, which confounded me not a little, ‘Madam, I am

truly concerned for your misfortunes; and if this trifle can be of any

service to you, I beg you will accept it without ceremony.’ So saying,

he put a bit of paper into her hand, which she opening with great

trepidation, exclaimed in an extacy, ‘Twenty pounds! Oh, sir!’ and

sinking down upon a settee, fainted away--Frightened at this fit, and,

I suppose, afraid of calling for assistance, lest her situation

should give rise to unfavourable conjectures, he ran about the room in

distraction, making frightful grimaces; and, at length, had recollection

enough to throw a little water in her face; by which application she was

brought to herself: but, then her feeling took another turn. She shed

a flood of tears, and cried aloud, ‘I know not who you are: but,

sure--worthy sir--generous sir!--the distress of me and my poor dying

child--Oh! if the widow’s prayers--if the orphan’s tears of gratitude

can ought avail--gracious Providence--Blessings!--shower down eternal

blessings.’--Here she was interrupted by my uncle, who muttered in

a voice still more and more discordant, ‘For Heaven’s sake be quiet,

madam--consider--the people of the house--‘sdeath! can’t you.’--All this

time she was struggling to throw herself on her knees, while he seizing

her by the wrists, endeavoured to seat her upon the settee, saying,

‘Prithee--good now--hold your tongue’--At that instant, who should

burst into--the room but our aunt Tabby! of all antiquated maidens the

most diabolically capricious--Ever prying into other people’s affairs,

she had seen the woman enter, and followed her to the door, where she

stood listening, but probably could hear nothing distinctly, except my

uncle’s, last exclamation; at which she bounded into the parlour in a

violent rage, that dyed the tip of her nose of a purple hue,--‘Fy upon

you, Matt! (cried she) what doings are these, to disgrace your own

character, and disparage your family?’--Then, snatching the bank note

out of the stranger’s hand, she went on--‘How now, twenty

pounds!--here is temptation with a witness!--Good-woman, go about

your business--Brother, brother, I know not which most to admire; your

concupissins, or your extravagance!’--‘Good God (exclaimed the poor

woman) shall a worthy gentleman’s character suffer for an action

that does honour to humanity?’ By this time, uncle’s indignation was

effectually roused. His face grew pale, his teeth chattered, and his

eyes flashed--‘Sister (cried he, in a voice like thunder) I vow to God,

your impertinence is exceedingly provoking.’ With these words, he took

her by the hand, and, opening the door of communication, thrust her into

the chamber where I stood, so affected by the scene, that the tears ran

down my cheeks. Observing these marks of emotion, ‘I don’t wonder (said

she) to see you concerned at the back-slidings of so near a relation; a

man of his years and infirmities: These are fine doings, truly--This

is a rare example, set by a guardian, for the benefit of his

pupils--Monstrous! incongruous! sophistical!’--I thought it was but

an act of justice to set her to rights; and therefore explained the

mystery. But she would not be undeceived, ‘What (said she) would you

go for to offer for to arguefy me out of my senses? Did’n’t I hear

him whispering to her to hold her tongue? Did’n’t I see her in tears?

Did’n’t I see him struggling to throw her upon the couch? 0 filthy!

hideous! abominable! Child, child, talk not to me of charity.--Who gives

twenty pounds in charity?--But you are a stripling--You know nothing of

the world. Besides, charity begins at home--Twenty pounds would buy me a

complete suit of flowered silk, trimmings and all--’ In short, I quitted

the room, my contempt for her, and my respect for her brother, being

increased in the same proportion. I have since been informed, that the

person, whom my uncle so generously relieved, is the widow of an ensign,

who has nothing to depend upon but the pension of fifteen pounds a year.

The people of the Well-house give her an excellent character. She lodges

in a garret, and works very hard at plain work, to support her daughter,

who is dying of a consumption. I must own, to my shame, I feel a strong

inclination to follow my uncle’s example, in relieving this poor widow;

but, betwixt friends, I am afraid of being detected in a weakness, that

might entail the ridicule of the company, upon,

Dear Phillips, Yours always, J. MELFORD

Direct your next to me at Bath; and remember me to all our

fellow-jesuits.

To Dr LEWIS.

HOT WELL, April 20.

I understand your hint. There are mysteries in physic, as well as in

religion; which we of the profane have no right to investigate--A

man must not presume to use his reason, unless he has studied the

categories, and can chop logic by mode and figure--Between friends, I

think every man of tolerable parts ought, at my time of day, to be both

physician and lawyer, as far as his own constitution and property are

concerned. For my own part, I have had an hospital these fourteen years

within myself, and studied my own case with the most painful attention;

consequently may be supposed to know something of the matter, although

I have not taken regular courses of physiology et cetera et cetera.--

In short, I have for some time been of opinion (no offence, dear Doctor)

that the sum of all your medical discoveries amounts to this, that the

more you study the less you know.--I have read all that has been written

on the Hot Wells, and what I can collect from the whole, is, that the

water contains nothing but a little salt, and calcarious earth, mixed in

such inconsiderable proportion, as can have very little, if any, effect

on the animal economy. This being the case, I think the man deserves to

be fitted with a cap and bells, who for such a paultry advantage as this

spring affords, sacrifices his precious time, which might be employed

in taking more effectual remedies, and exposes himself to the dirt, the

stench, the chilling blasts, and perpetual rains, that render this place

to me intolerable. If these waters, from a small degree of astringency,

are of some service in the diabetes, diarrhoea, and night sweats, when

the secretions are too much increased, must not they do harm in the same

proportion, where the humours are obstructed, as in the asthma,

scurvy, gout and dropsy?--Now we talk of the dropsy, here is a strange

fantastical oddity, one of your brethren, who harangues every day in

the Pump-room, as if he was hired to give lectures on all subjects

whatsoever--I know not what to make of him--Sometimes he makes

shrewd remarks; at other times he talks like the greatest simpleton in

nature--He has read a great deal; but without method or judgment, and

digested nothing. He believes every thing he has read; especially if

it has any thing of the marvellous in it and his conversation is a

surprizing hotch-potch of erudition and extravagance. He told me t’other

day, with great confidence, that my case was dropsical; or, as he called

it, leucophlegmatic: A sure sign, that his want of experience is equal

to his presumption--for, you know, there is nothing analogous to the

dropsy in my disorder--I wish those impertinent fellows, with their

ricketty understandings, would keep their advice for those that ask it.

Dropsy, indeed! Sure I have not lived to the age of fifty-five, and had

such experience of my own disorder, and consulted you and other eminent

physicians, so often, and so long, to be undeceived by such a--But,

without all doubt, the man is mad; and, therefore, what he says is of

no consequence. I had, yesterday, a visit from Higgins, who came hither

under the terror of your threats, and brought me in a present a brace of

hares, which he owned he took in my ground; and I could not persuade

the fellow that he did wrong, or that I would ever prosecute him for

poaching--I must desire you will wink hard at the practices of this

rascallion, otherwise I shall be plagued with his presents, which cost

me more than they are worth.--If I could wonder at any thing Fitzowen

does, I should be surprized at his assurance in desiring you to solicit

my vote for him at the next election for the county: for him, who

opposed me, on the like occasion, with the most illiberal competition.

You may tell him civilly, that I beg to be excused. Direct your next for

me at Bath, whither I propose to remove to-morrow; not only on my own

account, but for the sake of my niece, Liddy, who is like to relapse.

The poor creature fell into a fit yesterday, while I was cheapening a

pair of spectacles, with a Jew-pedlar. I am afraid there is something

still lurking in that little heart of hers, which I hope a change of

objects will remove. Let me know what you think of this half-witted

Doctor’s impertinent, ridiculous, and absurd notion of my disorder--So

far from being dropsical, I am as lank in the belly as a grey-hound;

and, by measuring my ancle with a pack-thread, I find the swelling

subsides every day. From such doctors, good Lord deliver us!--I have not

yet taken any lodgings in Bath; because there we can be accommodated at

a minute’s warning, and I shall choose for myself--I need not say your

directions for drinking and bathing will be agreeable to,

Dear Lewis, Yours ever, MAT. BRAMBLE

P.S. I forgot to tell you, that my right ancle pits, a symptom, as I

take it, of its being oedematous, not leucophlegmatic.

To Miss LETTY WILLIS, at Gloucester

HOT WELL, April 21.

MY DEAR LETTY,

I did not intend to trouble you again, till we should be settled at

Bath; but having the occasion of Jarvis, I could not let it slip,

especially as I have something extraordinary to communicate. O, my dear

companion! What shall I tell you? for several days past there was a

Jew-looking man, that plied at the Wells with a box of spectacles; and

he always eyed me so earnestly, that I began to be very uneasy. At last,

he came to our lodgings at Clifton, and lingered about the door, as

if he wanted to speak to somebody--I was seized with an odd kind of

fluttering, and begged Win to throw herself in his way: but the poor

girl has weak nerves, and was afraid of his beard. My uncle, having

occasion for new glasses, called him up stairs, and was trying a pair

of spectacles, when the man, advancing to me, said in a whisper--O

gracious! what d’ye think he said?--‘I am Wilson!’ His features struck

me that very moment it was Wilson, sure enough! but so disguised, that

it would have been impossible to know him, if my heart had not assisted

in the discovery. I was so surprised, and so frightened that I fainted

away, but soon recovered; and found myself supported by him on the

chair, while my uncle was running about the room, with the spectacles

on his nose, calling for help. I had no opportunity to speak to him; but

looks were sufficiently expressive. He was payed for his glasses, and

went away. Then I told Win who he was, and sent her after him to the

Pump-room; where she spoke to him, and begged him in my name to withdraw

from the place, that he might not incur the suspicion of my uncle or my

brother, if he did not want to see me die of terror and vexation. The

poor youth declared, with tears in his eyes, that he had something

extraordinary to communicate; and asked, if she would deliver a letter

to me: but this she absolutely refused, by my order.--Finding her

obstinate in her refusal, he desired she would tell me that he was no

longer a player, but a gentleman; in which character he would very soon

avow his passion for me, without fear of censure or reproach--Nay,

he even discovered his name and family, which, to my great grief,

the simple girl forgot, in the confusion occasioned by her being seen

talking to him by my brother, who stopt her on the road, and asked

what business she had with that rascally Jew. She pretended she was

cheapening a stay-hook, but was thrown into such a quandary, that she

forgot the most material part of the information; and when she came

home, went into an hysteric fit of laughing. This transaction happened

three days ago, during which he has not appeared, so that I suppose he

has gone. Dear Letty! you see how Fortune takes pleasure in persecuting

your poor friend. If you should see him at Gloucester--or if you have

seen him, and know his real name and family, pray keep me no longer in

suspence--And yet, if he is under no obligation to keep himself longer

concealed, and has a real affection for me, I should hope he will, in a

little time, declare himself to my relations. Sure, if there is

nothing unsuitable in the match, they won’t be so cruel as to thwart my

inclinations--O what happiness would then be my portion! I can’t help

indulging the thought, and pleasing my fancy with such agreeable ideas;

which after all, perhaps, will never be realized--But, why should I

despair? who knows what will happen?--We set out for Bath to-morrow, and

I am almost sorry for it; as I begin to be in love with solitude, and

this is a charming romantic place. The air is so pure; the Downs are so

agreeable; the furz in full blossom; the ground enamelled with daisies,

and primroses, and cowslips; all the trees bursting into leaves, and the

hedges already clothed with their vernal livery; the mountains covered

with flocks of sheep and tender bleating wanton lambkins playing,

frisking, and skipping from side to side; the groves resound with

the notes of blackbird, thrush, and linnet; and all night long sweet

Philomel pours forth her ravishingly delightful song. Then, for

variety, we go down to the nymph of Bristol spring, where the company is

assembled before dinner; so good natured, so free, so easy; and there we

drink the water so clear, so pure, so mild, so charmingly maukish. There

the fun is so chearful and reviving; the weather so soft; the walk so

agreeable; the prospect so amusing; and the ships and boats going up and

down the river, close under the windows of the Pump-room, afford such an

enchanting variety of Moving Pictures, as require a much abler pen than

mine to describe. To make this place a perfect paradise to me, nothing

is wanting but an agreeable companion and sincere friend; such as

my dear miss Willis hath been, and I hope still will be, to her ever

faithful.

LYDIA MELFORD

Direct for me, still under cover, to Win; and Jarvis will take care to

convey it safe. Adieu.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

BATH, April 24.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

You have, indeed, reason to be surprised, that I should have concealed

my correspondence with miss Blackerby from you, to whom I disclosed all

my other connexions of that nature; but the truth is, I never dreamed

of any such commerce, till your last informed me, that it had produced

something which could not be much longer concealed. It is a lucky

circumstance, however, that her reputation will not suffer any

detriment, but rather derive advantage from the discovery; which

will prove, at least, that it is not quite so rotten as most people

imagined--For my own part, I declare to you, in all the sincerity of

friendship, that, far from having any amorous intercourse with the

object in question, I never had the least acquaintance with her person;

but, if she is really in the condition you describe, I suspect Mansel to

be at the bottom of the whole. His visits to that shrine were no secret;

and this attachment, added to some good offices, which you know he has

done me, since I left Alma-mater, give me a right to believe him capable

of saddling me with this scandal, when my back was turned--Nevertheless,

if my name can be of any service to him, he is welcome to make use of

it; and if the woman should be abandoned enough to swear his banding to

me, I must beg the favour of you to compound with the parish: I shall

pay the penalty without repining; and you will be so good as to draw

upon me immediately for the sum required--On this occasion, I act by the

advice of my uncle; who says I shall have good-luck if I pass through

life without being obliged to make many more compositions of the same

kind. The old gentleman told me last night, with great good-humour, that

betwixt the age of twenty and forty, he had been obliged to provide for

nine bastards, sworn to him by women whom he never saw--Mr Bramble’s

character, which seems to interest you greatly, opens and improves upon

me every day. His singularities afford a rich mine of entertainment;

his understanding, so far as I can judge, is well cultivated; his

observations on life are equally just, pertinent, and uncommon. He

affects misanthropy, in order to conceal the sensibility of a heart,

which is tender, even to a degree of weakness. This delicacy of feeling,

or soreness of the mind, makes him timorous and fearful; but then he

is afraid of nothing so much as of dishonour; and although he is

exceedingly cautious of giving offence, he will fire at the least hint

of insolence or ill-breeding.--Respectable as he is, upon the whole,

I can’t help being sometimes diverted by his little distresses; which

provoke him to let fly the shafts of his satire, keen and penetrating

as the arrows of Teucer--Our aunt, Tabitha, acts upon him as a perpetual

grind-stone--She is, in all respects, a striking contrast to her

brother--But I reserve her portrait for another occasion.

Three days ago we came hither from the Hot Well, and took possession

of the first floor of a lodging-house, on the South Parade; a situation

which my uncle chose, for its being near the Bath, and remote from the

noise of carriages. He was scarce warm in the lodgings when he called

for his night-cap, his wide shoes, and flannel; and declared himself

invested with the gout in his right foot; though, I believe it had as

yet reached no farther than his imagination. It was not long before he

had reason to repent his premature declaration; for our aunt Tabitha

found means to make such a clamour and confusion, before the flannels

could be produced from the trunk, that one would have imagined the house

was on fire. All this time, uncle sat boiling with impatience, biting

his fingers, throwing up his eyes, and muttering ejaculations; at length

he burst into a kind of convulsive laugh, after which he hummed a song;

and when the hurricane was over, exclaimed ‘Blessed be God for all

things!’ This, however, was but the beginning of his troubles. Mrs

Tabitha’s favourite dog Chowder, having paid his compliments to a female

turnspit of his own species, in the kitchen, involved himself in a

quarrel with no fewer than five rivals, who set upon him at once, and

drove him up stairs to the dining room door, with hideous noise: there

our aunt and her woman, taking arms in his defence, joined the

concert; which became truly diabolical. This fray being with difficulty

suppressed, by the intervention of our own footman and the cook-maid

of the house, the squire had just opened his mouth, to expostulate with

Tabby, when the town-waits, in the passage below, struck up their music

(if music it may be called) with such a sudden burst of sound, as made

him start and stare, with marks of indignation and disquiet. He had

recollection enough to send his servant with some money to silence those

noisy intruders; and they were immediately dismissed, though not without

some opposition on the part of Tabitha, who thought it but reasonable

that he should have more music for his money. Scarce had he settled this

knotty point, when a strange kind of thumping and bouncing was heard

right over-head, in the second story, so loud and violent, as to shake

the whole building. I own I was exceedingly provoked at this new alarm;

and before my uncle had time to express himself on the subject, I ran

up stairs, to see what was the matter. Finding the room-door open, I

entered without ceremony, and perceived an object, which I can not now

recollect without laughing to excess--It was a dancing master, with his

scholar, in the act of teaching. The master was blind of one eye, and

lame of one foot, and led about the room his pupil; who seemed to be

about the age of threescore, stooped mortally, was tall, raw-boned,

hard-favoured, with a woollen night-cap on his head; and he had stript

off his coat, that he might be more nimble in his motions--Finding

himself intruded upon, by a person he did not know, he forthwith girded

himself with a long iron sword, and advancing to me, with a peremptory

air, pronounced, in a true Hibernian accent, ‘Mister What d’ye callum,

by my saoul and conscience, I am very glad to sea you, if you are after

coming in the way of friendship; and indeed, and indeed now, I believe

you are my friend sure enough, gra; though I never had the honour to sea

your face before, my dear; for becaase you come like a friend, without

any ceremony at all, at all’--I told him the nature of my visit would

not admit of ceremony; that I was come to desire he would make less

noise, as there was a sick gentleman below, whom he had no right

to disturb with such preposterous doings. ‘Why, look-ye now, young

gentleman (replied this original) perhaps, upon another occasion, I

might shivilly request you to explain the maining of that hard word,

prepasterous: but there’s a time for all things, honey’--So saying,

he passed me with great agility, and, running down stairs, found our

foot-man at the dining-room door, of whom he demanded admittance, to

pay his respects to the stranger. As the fellow did not think proper

to refuse the request of such a formidable figure, he was immediately

introduced, and addressed himself to my uncle in these words: ‘Your

humble servant, good sir,--I’m not so prepasterous, as your son calls

it, but I know the rules of shivility--I’m a poor knight of Ireland,

my name is sir Ulic Mackilligut, of the county of Galway; being your

fellow-lodger, I’m come to pay my respects, and to welcome you to the

South Parade, and to offer my best services to you, and your good lady,

and your pretty daughter; and even to the young gentleman your son,

though he thinks me a prepasterous fellow--You must know I am to have

the honour to open a ball next door to-morrow with lady Mac Manus; and

being rusted in my dancing, I was refreshing my memory with a little

exercise; but if I had known there was a sick person below, by Christ!

I would have sooner danced a hornpipe upon my own head, than walk the

softest minuet over yours.’--My uncle, who was not a little startled at

his first appearance, received his compliment with great complacency,

insisted upon his being seated, thanked him for the honour of his visit,

and reprimanded me for my abrupt expostulation with a gentleman of his

rank and character. Thus tutored, I asked pardon of the knight, who,

forthwith starting up, embraced me so close, that I could hardly

breathe; and assured me, he loved me as his own soul. At length,

recollecting his night-cap, he pulled it off in some confusion; and,

with his bald-pate uncovered, made a thousand apologies to the ladies,

as he retired--At that instant, the Abbey bells, began to ring so

loud, that we could not hear one another speak; and this peal, as

we afterwards learned, was for the honour of Mr Bullock, an eminent

cowkeeper of Tottenham, who had just arrived at Bath, to drink the

waters for indigestion. Mr Bramble had not time to make his remarks upon

the agreeable nature of this serenade, before his ears were saluted with

another concert that interested him more nearly. Two negroes, belonging

to a Creole gentleman, who lodged in the same house, taking their

station at a window in the stair-case, about ten feet from our

dining-room door, began to practise upon the French-horn; and being in

the very first rudiments of execution, produced such discordant sounds,

as might have discomposed the organs of an ass. You may guess what

effect they had upon the irritable nerves of uncle; who, with the most

admirable expression of splenetic surprize in his countenance, sent

his man to silence these dreadful blasts, and desire the musicians to

practise in some other place, as they had no right to stand there and

disturb all the lodgers in the house. Those sable performers, far from

taking the hint, and withdrawing, treated the messenger with great

insolence; bidding him carry his compliments to their master, colonel

Rigworm, who would give him a proper answer, and a good drubbing into

the bargain; in the mean time they continued their noise, and even

endeavoured to make it more disagreeable; laughing between whiles, at

the thoughts of being able to torment their betters with impunity. Our

‘squire, incensed at the additional insult, immediately dispatched the

servant, with his compliments to colonel Rigworm, requesting that

he would order his blacks to be quiet, as the noise they made was

altogether intolerable--To this message, the Creole colonel replied,

that his horns had a right to sound on a common staircase; that there

they should play for his diversion; and that those who did not like the

noise, might look for lodgings elsewhere. Mr Bramble no sooner received

this reply, than his eyes began to glisten, his face grew pale, and his

teeth chattered. After a moment’s pause, he slipt on his shoes, without

speaking a word, or seeming to feel any further disturbance from the

gout in his toes. Then snatching his cane, he opened the door and

proceeded to the place where the black trumpeters were posted. There,

without further hesitation, he began to belabour them both; and exerted

himself with such astonishing vigour and agility, that both their heads

and horns were broken in a twinkling, and they ran howling down stairs

to their master’s parlour-door. The squire, following them half way,

called aloud, that the colonel might hear him, ‘Go, rascals, and tell

your master what I have done; if he thinks himself injured, he knows

where to come for satisfaction. As for you, this is but an earnest of

what you shall receive, if ever you presume to blow a horn again here,

while I stay in the house.’ So saying, he retired to his apartment, in

expectation of hearing from the West Indian; but the colonel prudently

declined any farther prosecution of the dispute. My sister Liddy was

frighted into a fit, from which she was no sooner recovered, than Mrs

Tabitha began a lecture upon patience; which her brother interrupted

with a most significant grin, ‘True, sister, God increase my patience

and your discretion. I wonder (added he) what sort of sonata we are to

expect from this overture, in which the devil, that presides over horrid

sounds, hath given us such variations of discord--The trampling of

porters, the creaking and crashing of trunks, the snarling of curs, the

scolding of women, the squeaking and squalling of fiddles and hautboys

out of tune, the bouncing of the Irish baronet over-head, and the

bursting, belching, and brattling of the French-horns in the passage

(not to mention the harmonious peal that still thunders from the Abbey

steeple) succeeding one another without interruption, like the different

parts of the same concert, have given me such an idea of what a poor

invalid has to expect in this temple, dedicated to Silence and Repose,

that I shall certainly shift my quarters to-morrow, and endeavour to

effectuate my retreat before Sir Ulic opens the ball with my lady Mac

Manus; a conjunction that bodes me no good.’ This intimation was by no

means agreeable to Mrs Tabitha, whose ears were not quite so delicate as

those of her brother--She said it would be great folly to move from

such agreeable lodgings, the moment they were comfortably settled. She

wondered he should be such an enemy to music and mirth. She heard no

noise but of his own making: it was impossible to manage a family in

dumb-shew. He might harp as long as he pleased upon her scolding; but

she never scolded, except for his advantage; but he would never be

satisfied, even tho’f she should sweat blood and water in his service--I

have a great notion that our aunt, who is now declining into the most

desperate state of celibacy, had formed some design upon the heart of

Sir Ulic Mackilligut, which she feared might be frustrated by our abrupt

departure from these lodgings. Her brother, eyeing her askance, ‘Pardon

me, sister (said he) I should be a savage, indeed, were I insensible of

my own felicity, in having such a mild, complaisant, good-humoured, and

considerate companion and housekeeper; but as I have got a weak head,

and my sense of hearing is painfully acute, before I have recourse to

plugs of wool and cotton, I’ll try whether I can’t find another lodging,

where I shall have more quiet and less music.’ He accordingly dispatched

his man upon this service; and next day he found a small house in

Milsham-street, which he hires by the week. Here, at least, we enjoy

convenience and quiet within doors, as much as Tabby’s temper will

allow; but the squire still complains of flying pains in the stomach

and head, for which he bathes and drinks the waters. He is not so bad,

however, but that he goes in person to the pump, the rooms, and the

coffeehouses; where he picks up continual food for ridicule and satire.

If I can glean any thing for your amusement, either from his observation

or my own, you shall have it freely, though I am afraid it will poorly

compensate the trouble of reading these tedious insipid letters of,

Dear Phillips, Yours always, J. MELFORD

To Dr LEWIS. BATH, April 23. DEAR DOCTOR,

If I did not know that the exercise of your profession has habituated

you to the hearing of complaints, I should make a conscience of

troubling you with my correspondence, which may be truly called the

lamentations of Matthew Bramble. Yet I cannot help thinking I have

some right to discharge the overflowings of my spleen upon you, whose

province it is to remove those disorders that occasioned it; and let

me tell you, it is no small alleviation of my grievances, that I have a

sensible friend, to whom I can communicate my crusty humours, which, by

retention, would grow intolerably acrimonious.

You must know, I find nothing but disappointment at Bath; which is

so altered, that I can scarce believe it is the same place that I

frequented about thirty years ago. Methinks I hear you say, ‘Altered it

is, without all doubt: but then it is altered for the better; a truth

which, perhaps, you would own without hesitation, if you yourself was

not altered for the worse.’ The reflection may, for aught I know, be

just. The inconveniences which I overlooked in the high-day of health,

will naturally strike with exaggerated impression on the irritable

nerves of an invalid, surprised by premature old age, and shattered with

long-suffering--But, I believe, you will not deny, that this place,

which Nature and Providence seem to have intended as a resource

from distemper and disquiet, is become the very centre of racket and

dissipation. Instead of that peace, tranquillity, and ease, so necessary

to those who labour under bad health, weak nerves, and irregular

spirits; here we have nothing but noise, tumult, and hurry; with the

fatigue and slavery of maintaining a ceremonial, more stiff, formal, and

oppressive, than the etiquette of a German elector. A national hospital

it may be, but one would imagine that none but lunatics are admitted;

and truly, I will give you leave to call me so, if I stay much longer at

Bath.--But I shall take another opportunity to explain my sentiments

at greater length on this subject--I was impatient to see the boasted

improvements in architecture, for which the upper parts of the town have

been so much celebrated and t’other day I made a circuit of all the new

buildings. The Square, though irregular, is, on the whole, pretty well

laid out, spacious, open, and airy; and, in my opinion, by far the most

wholesome and agreeable situation in Bath, especially the upper side of

it; but the avenues to it are mean, dirty, dangerous, and indirect. Its

communication with the Baths, is through the yard of an inn, where the

poor trembling valetudinarian is carried in a chair, betwixt the heels

of a double row of horses, wincing under the curry-combs of grooms and

postilions, over and above the hazard of being obstructed, or overturned

by the carriages which are continually making their exit or their

entrance--I suppose after some chairmen shall have been maimed, and

a few lives lost by those accidents, the corporation will think, in

earnest, about providing a more safe and commodious passage. The Circus

is a pretty bauble, contrived for shew, and looks like Vespasian’s

amphitheatre turned outside in. If we consider it in point of

magnificence, the great number of small doors belonging to the separate

houses, the inconsiderable height of the different orders, the affected

ornaments of the architrave, which are both childish and misplaced,

and the areas projecting into the street, surrounded with iron rails,

destroy a good part of its effect upon the eye; and, perhaps, we shall

find it still more defective, if we view it in the light of convenience.

The figure of each separate dwelling-house, being the segment of a

circle, must spoil the symmetry of the rooms, by contracting them

towards the street windows, and leaving a larger sweep in the space

behind. If, instead of the areas and iron rails, which seem to be of

very little use, there had been a corridore with arcades all round,

as in Covent-garden, the appearance of the whole would have been more

magnificent and striking; those arcades would have afforded an agreeable

covered walk, and sheltered the poor chairmen and their carriages from

the rain, which is here almost perpetual. At present, the chairs stand

soaking in the open street, from morning to night, till they become so

many boxes of wet leather, for the benefit of the gouty and rheumatic,

who are transported in them from place to place. Indeed this is a

shocking inconvenience that extends over the whole city; and, I am

persuaded, it produces infinite mischief to the delicate and infirm;

even the close chairs, contrived for the sick, by standing in the open

air, have their frize linings impregnated like so many spunges, with the

moisture of the atmosphere, and those cases of cold vapour must give

a charming check to the perspiration of a patient, piping hot from the

Bath, with all his pores wide open.

But, to return to the Circus; it is inconvenient from its situation, at

so great a distance from all the markets, baths, and places of public

entertainment. The only entrance to it, through Gay-street, is so

difficult, steep, and slippery, that in wet weather, it must be

exceedingly dangerous, both for those that ride in carriages, and those

that walk a-foot; and when the street is covered with snow, as it was

for fifteen days successively this very winter, I don’t see how any

individual could go either up or down, without the most imminent hazard

of broken bones. In blowing weather, I am told, most of the houses in

this hill are smothered with smoke, forced down the chimneys, by the

gusts of wind reverberated from the hill behind, which (I apprehend

likewise) must render the atmosphere here more humid and unwholesome

than it is in the square below; for the clouds, formed by the constant

evaporation from the baths and rivers in the bottom, will, in their

ascent this way, be first attracted and detained by the hill that rises

close behind the Circus, and load the air with a perpetual succession of

vapours: this point, however, may be easily ascertained by means of an

hygrometer, or a paper of salt of tartar exposed to the action of

the atmosphere. The same artist who planned the Circus, has likewise

projected a Crescent; when that is finished, we shall probably have a

Star; and those who are living thirty years hence, may, perhaps, see

all the signs of the Zodiac exhibited in architecture at Bath. These,

however fantastical, are still designs that denote some ingenuity and

knowledge in the architect; but the rage of building has laid hold on

such a number of adventurers, that one sees new houses starting up in

every out-let and every corner of Bath; contrived without judgment,

executed without solidity, and stuck together with so little regard

to plan and propriety, that the different lines of the new rows and

buildings interfere with, and intersect one another in every different

angle of conjunction. They look like the wreck of streets and squares

disjointed by an earthquake, which hath broken the ground into a variety

of holes and hillocks; or as if some Gothic devil had stuffed them

altogether in a bag, and left them to stand higgledy piggledy, just as

chance directed. What sort of a monster Bath will become in a few years,

with those growing excrescences, may be easily conceived: but the want

of beauty and proportion is not the worst effect of these new mansions;

they are built so slight, with the soft crumbling stone found in this

neighbourhood, that I shall never sleep quietly in one of them, when

it blowed (as the sailors say) a cap-full of wind; and, I am persuaded,

that my hind, Roger Williams, or any man of equal strength, would be

able to push his foot through the strongest part of their walls, without

any great exertion of his muscles. All these absurdities arise from the

general tide of luxury, which hath overspread the nation, and swept

away all, even the very dregs of the people. Every upstart of fortune,

harnessed in the trappings of the mode, presents himself at Bath, as in

the very focus of observation--Clerks and factors from the East Indies,

loaded with the spoil of plundered provinces; planters, negro-drivers,

and hucksters from our American plantations, enriched they know not

how; agents, commissaries, and contractors, who have fattened, in two

successive wars, on the blood of the nation; usurers, brokers, and

jobbers of every kind; men of low birth, and no breeding, have found

themselves suddenly translated into a state of affluence, unknown to

former ages; and no wonder that their brains should be intoxicated with

pride, vanity, and presumption. Knowing no other criterion of greatness,

but the ostentation of wealth, they discharge their affluence without

taste or conduct, through every channel of the most absurd extravagance;

and all of them hurry to Bath, because here, without any further

qualification, they can mingle with the princes and nobles of the land.

Even the wives and daughters of low tradesmen, who, like shovel-nosed

sharks, prey upon the blubber of those uncouth whales of fortune, are

infected with the same rage of displaying their importance; and the

slightest indisposition serves them for a pretext to insist upon being

conveyed to Bath, where they may hobble country-dances and cotillons

among lordlings, squires, counsellors, and clergy. These delicate

creatures from Bedfordbury, Butcher-row, Crutched-friers, and

Botolph-lane, cannot breathe in the gross air of the Lower Town, or

conform to the vulgar rules of a common lodging-house; the husband,

therefore, must provide an entire house, or elegant apartments in the

new buildings. Such is the composition of what is called the fashionable

company at Bath; where a very inconsiderable proportion of genteel

people are lost in a mob of impudent plebeians, who have neither

understanding nor judgment, nor the least idea of propriety and decorum;

and seem to enjoy nothing so much as an opportunity of insulting their

betters.

Thus the number of people, and the number of houses continue to

increase; and this will ever be the case, till the streams that swell

this irresistible torrent of folly and extravagance, shall either be

exhausted, or turned into other channels, by incidents and events which

I do not pretend to foresee. This, I own, is a subject on which I cannot

write with any degree of patience; for the mob is a monster I never

could abide, either in its head, tail, midriff, or members; I detest the

whole of it, as a mass of ignorance, presumption, malice and brutality;

and, in this term of reprobation, I include, without respect of rank,

station, or quality, all those of both sexes, who affect its manners,

and court its society.

But I have written till my fingers are crampt, and my nausea begins to

return--By your advice, I sent to London a few days ago for half a pound

of Gengzeng; though I doubt much, whether that which comes from America

is equally efficacious with what is brought from the East Indies. Some

years ago a friend of mine paid sixteen guineas for two ounces of

it; and, in six months after, it was sold in the same shop for five

shillings the pound. In short, we live in a vile world of fraud and

sophistication; so that I know nothing of equal value with the genuine

friendship of a sensible man; a rare jewel! which I cannot help thinking

myself in possession of, while I repeat the old declaration, that I am,

as usual,

Dear Lewis, Your affectionate M. BRAMBLE,

After having been agitated in a short hurricane, on my first arrival,

I have taken a small house in Milsham-street, where I am tolerably well

lodged, for five guineas a week. I was yesterday at the Pump-room, and

drank about a pint of water, which seems to agree with my stomach; and

to-morrow morning I shall bathe, for the first time; so that in a few

posts you may expect farther trouble; mean while, I am glad to find that

the inoculation has succeeded so well with poor Joyce, and that her face

will be but little marked. If my friend Sir Thomas was a single man,

I would not trust such a handsome wench in his family; but as I have

recommended her, in a particular manner, to the protection of lady G--,

who is one of the best women in the world, she may go thither without

hesitation as soon as she is quite recovered and fit for service--Let

her mother have money to provide her with necessaries, and she may ride

behind her brother on Bucks; but you must lay strong injunctions

on Jack, to take particular care of the trusty old veteran, who has

faithfully earned his present ease by his past services.

To Miss WILLIS at Gloucester. BATH, April 26. MY DEAREST COMPANION,

The pleasure I received from yours, which came to hand yesterday, is

not to be expressed. Love and friendship are, without doubt, charming

passions; which absence serves only to heighten and improve. Your kind

present of the garnet bracelets, I shall keep as carefully as I preserve

my own life; and I beg you will accept, in return, my heart-housewife,

with the tortoise-shell memorandum-book, as a trifling pledge of my

unalterable affection.

Bath is to me a new world--All is gayety, good-humour, and diversion.

The eye is continually entertained with the splendour of dress and

equipage; and the ear with the sound of coaches, chairs, and other

carriages. The merry bells ring round, from morn till night. Then we

are welcomed by the city-waits in our own lodgings; we have music in the

Pump-room every morning, cotillons every forenoon in the rooms, balls

twice a week, and concerts every other night, besides private assemblies

and parties without number--As soon as we were settled in lodgings, we

were visited by the Master of the Ceremonies; a pretty little gentleman,

so sweet, so fine, so civil, and polite, that in our country he might

pass for the prince of Wales; then he talks so charmingly, both in verse

and prose, that you would be delighted to hear him discourse; for you

must know he is a great writer, and has got five tragedies ready for the

stage. He did us the favour to dine with us, by my uncle’s invitation;

and next day squired my aunt and me to every part of Bath; which, to be

sure, is an earthly paradise. The Square, the Circus, and the Parades,

put you in mind of the sumptuous palaces represented in prints and

pictures; and the new buildings, such as Princes-row, Harlequin’s-row,

Bladud’s-row, and twenty other rows, look like so many enchanted

castles, raised on hanging terraces.

At eight in the morning, we go in dishabille to the Pump-room which is

crowded like a Welsh fair; and there you see the highest quality,

and the lowest trades folks, jostling each other, without ceremony,

hail-fellow well-met. The noise of the music playing in the gallery,

the heat and flavour of such a crowd, and the hum and buz of their

conversation, gave me the head-ach and vertigo the first day; but,

afterwards, all these things became familiar, and even agreeable.--Right

under the Pump-room windows is the King’s Bath; a huge cistern, where

you see the patients up to their necks in hot water. The ladies wear

jackets and petticoats of brown linen with chip hats, in which they

fix their handkerchiefs to wipe the sweat from their faces; but, truly,

whether it is owing to the steam that surrounds them, or the heat of the

water, or the nature of the dress, or to all these causes together, they

look so flushed, and so frightful, that I always turn my eyes another

way--My aunt, who says every person of fashion should make her

appearance in the bath, as well as in the abbey church, contrived a cap

with cherry-coloured ribbons to suit her complexion, and obliged Win to

attend her yesterday morning in the water. But, really, her eyes were so

red, that they made mine water as I viewed her from the Pump-room; and

as for poor Win, who wore a hat trimmed with blue, what betwixt her wan

complexion and her fear, she looked like the ghost of some pale maiden,

who had drowned herself for love. When she came out of the bath, she

took assafoetida drops, and was fluttered all day; so that we could

hardly keep her from going into hysterics: but her mistress says it will

do her good; and poor Win curtsies, with the tears in her eyes. For

my part, I content myself with drinking about half a pint of the water

every morning.

The pumper, with his wife and servant, attend within a bar; and the

glasses, of different sizes, stand ranged in order before them, so you

have nothing to do but to point at that which you choose, and it is

filled immediately, hot and sparkling from the pump. It is the only

hot water I could ever drink, without being sick--Far from having that

effect, it is rather agreeable to the taste, grateful to the stomach,

and reviving to the spirits. You cannot imagine what wonderful cures it

performs--My uncle began with it the other day; but he made wry faces in

drinking, and I’m afraid he will leave it off--The first day we came to

Bath, he fell into a violent passion; beat two black-a-moors, and I was

afraid he would have fought with their master; but the stranger proved

a peaceable man. To be sure, the gout had got into his head, as my aunt

observed; but, I believe, his passion drove it away; for he has been

remarkably well ever since. It is a thousand pities he should ever be

troubled with that ugly distemper; for, when he is free from pain, he is

the best tempered man upon earth; so gentle, so generous, so charitable,

that every body loves him; and so good to me, in particular, that I

shall never be able to shew the deep sense I have of his tenderness and

affection.

Hard by the Pump-room, is a coffee-house for the ladies; but my aunt

says, young girls are not admitted, insomuch as the conversation

turns upon politics, scandal, philosophy, and other subjects above

our capacity; but we are allowed to accompany them to the booksellers’

shops, which are charming places of resort; where we read novels, plays,

pamphlets, and newspapers, for so small a subscription as a crown a

quarter; and in these offices of intelligence (as my brother calls them)

all the reports of the day, and all the private transactions of the

Bath, are first entered and discussed. From the bookseller’s shop, we

make a tour through the milliners and toymen; and commonly stop at Mr

Gill’s, the pastry-cook, to take a jelly, a tart, or a small bason of

vermicelli. There is, moreover, another place of entertainment on the

other side of the water, opposite to the Grove, to which the company

cross over in a boat--It is called Spring-garden; a sweet retreat,

laid out in walks and ponds, and parterres of flowers; and there is

a long-room for breakfasting and dancing. As the situation is low and

damp, and the season has been remarkably wet, my uncle won’t suffer me

to go thither, lest I should catch cold: but my aunt says it is all a

vulgar prejudice; and, to be sure, a great many gentlemen and ladies of

Ireland frequent the place, without seeming to be the worse for it. They

say, dancing at Spring-gardens, when the air is moist, is recommended to

them as an excellent cure for the rheumatism. I have been twice at

the play; where, notwithstanding the excellence of the performers, the

gayety of the company, and the decorations of the theatre, which are

very fine, I could not help reflecting, with a sigh, upon our poor

homely representations at Gloucester--But this, in confidence to my dear

Willis--You know my heart, and will excuse its weakness.

After all, the great scenes of entertainment at Bath, are the two

public rooms; where the company meet alternately every evening. They are

spacious, lofty, and, when lighted up, appear very striking. They are

generally crowded with well-dressed people, who drink tea in separate

parties, play at cards, walk, or sit and chat together, just as they are

disposed. Twice a-week there is a ball; the expence of which is defrayed

by a voluntary subscription among the gentlemen; and every subscriber

has three tickets. I was there Friday last with my aunt, under the care

of my brother, who is a subscriber; and Sir Ulic Mackilligut recommended

his nephew, captain O Donaghan, to me as a partner; but Jery excused

himself, by saying I had got the head-ach; and, indeed, it was really

so, though I can’t imagine how he knew it. The place was so hot, and the

smell so different from what we are used to in the country, that I was

quite feverish when we came away. Aunt says it is the effect of a vulgar

constitution, reared among woods and mountains; and, that as I become

accustomed to genteel company, it will wear off.--Sir Ulic was very

complaisant, made her a great many high-flown compliments; and, when

we retired, handed her with great ceremony to her chair. The captain, I

believe, would have done me the same favour; but my brother seeing him

advance, took me under his arm, and wished him good night. The Captain

is a pretty man, to be sure; tall and strait, and well made; with

light-grey eyes, and a Roman nose; but there is a certain boldness in

his look and manner, that puts one out of countenance--But I am afraid

I have put you out of all patience with this long unconnected scrawl;

which I shall therefore conclude, with assuring you, that neither Bath,

nor London, nor all the diversions of life, shall ever be able to efface

the idea of my dear Letty, from the heart of her ever affectionate

LYDIA MELFORD

To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall.

DEAR MOLLY JONES,

Heaving got a frank, I now return your fever, which I received by Mr

Higgins, at the Hot Well, together with the stockings, which his wife

footed for me; but now they are of no survice. No body wears such things

in this place--O Molly! you that live in the country have no deception

of our doings at Bath. Here is such dressing, and fidling, and dancing,

and gadding, and courting and plotting--O gracious! if God had not

given me a good stock of discretion, what a power of things might not

I reveal, consarning old mistress and young mistress; Jews with beards

that were no Jews; but handsome Christians, without a hair upon their

sin, strolling with spectacles, to get speech of Miss Liddy. But she’s

a dear sweet soul, as innocent as the child unborn. She has tould me all

her inward thoughts, and disclosed her passion for Mr Wilson; and that’s

not his name neither; and thof he acted among the player-men, he is meat

for their masters; and she has gi’en me her yallow trollopea; which Mrs

Drab, the mantymaker, says will look very well when it is scowred and

smoaked with silfur--You knows as how, yallow fitts my fizzogmony. God

he knows what havock I shall make among the mail sex, when I make my

first appearance in this killing collar, with a full soot of gaze, as

good as new, that I bought last Friday of madam Friponeau, the French

mullaner--Dear girl, I have seen all the fine shews of Bath; the Prades,

the Squires, and the Circlis, the Crashit, the Hottogon, and Bloody

Buildings, and Harry King’s row; and I have been twice in the Bath with

mistress, and na’r a smoak upon our backs, hussy. The first time I was

mortally afraid, and flustered all day; and afterwards made believe that

I had got the heddick; but mistress said, if I didn’t go I should take

a dose of bumtaffy; and so remembering how it worked Mrs Gwyllim a

pennorth, I chose rather to go again with her into the Bath, and then I

met with an axident. I dropt my petticoat, and could not get it up from

the bottom.--But what did that signify; they mought laff but they could

see nothing; for I was up to the sin in water. To be sure, it threw me

into such a gumbustion, that I know not what I said, nor what I did, nor

how they got me out, and rapt me in a blanket--Mrs Tabitha scoulded a

little when we got home; but she knows as I know what’s what Ah Laud

help you!--There is Sir Yury Micligut, of Balnaclinch, in the cunty of

Kalloway--I took down the name from his gentleman, Mr 0 Frizzle, and he

has got an estate of fifteen hundred a year--I am sure he is both rich

and generous--But you nose, Molly, I was always famous for keeping

secrets; and so he was very safe in trusting me with his flegm for

mistress; which, to be sure is very honourable; for Mr O Frizzle assures

me, he values not her portion a brass varthing--And, indeed, what’s poor

ten thousand pounds to a Baron Knight of his fortune? and, truly, I told

Mr 0 Frizzle that was all she had trust to--As for John Thomas, he’s

a morass fellor--I vow, I thought he would a fit with Mr 0 Frizzle,

because he axed me to dance with him at Spring Garden--But God he knows

I have no thoughts eyther of wan or t’other.

As for house news, the worst is, Chowder has fallen off greatly from

his stomick--He eats nothing but white meats, and not much of that;

and wheezes, and seems to be much bloated. The doctors think he

is threatened with a dropsy--Parson Marrofat, who has got the same

disorder, finds great benefit from the waters; but Chowder seems to like

them no better than the squire; and mistress says, if his case don’t

take a favourable turn, she will sartinly carry him to Aberga’ny, to

drink goat’s whey--To be sure, the poor dear honymil is lost for want of

axercise; for which reason, she intends to give him an airing once a-day

upon the Downs, in a post-chaise--I have already made very creditable

connexions in this here place; where, to be sure, we have the very

squintasense of satiety--Mrs Patcher, my lady Kilmacullock’s woman, and

I are sworn sisters. She has shewn me all her secrets, and learned me to

wash gaze, and refrash rusty silks and bumbeseens, by boiling them with

winegar, chamberlye, and stale beer. My short sack and apron luck as

good as new from the shop, and my pumpydoor as fresh as a rose, by

the help of turtle-water--But this is all Greek and Latten to you,

Molly--If we should come to Aberga’ny, you’ll be within a day’s ride of

us; and then we shall see wan another, please God--If not, remember

me in your prayers, as I shall do by you in mine; and take care of my

kitten, and give my kind sarvice to Sall; and this is all at present,

from your beloved friend and sarvent,

W. JENKINS BATH, April 26.

To Mrs GWYLLIM, house-keeper at Brambleton-hall.

I am astonished that Dr Lewis should take upon him to give away

Alderney, without my privity and concurrants--What signifies my

brother’s order? My brother is little better than Noncompush. He would

give away the shirt off his back, and the teeth out of his head; nay, as

for that matter; he would have ruinated the family with his ridiculous

charities, if it had not been for my four quarters--What between his

willfullness and his waste, his trumps, and his frenzy, I lead the life

of an indented slave. Alderney gave four gallons a-day, ever since the

calf was sent to market. There is so much milk out of my dairy, and the

press must stand still: but I won’t loose a cheese pairing; and the milk

shall be made good, if the sarvents should go without butter. If they

must needs have butter, let them make it of sheep’s milk; but then my

wool will suffer for want of grace; so that I must be a loser on all

sides. Well, patience is like a stout Welsh poney; it bears a great

deal, and trots a great way; but it will tire at the long run. Before

its long, perhaps I may shew Matt, that I was not born to be the

household drudge to my dying day--Gwyn rites from Crickhowel, that the

price of flannel is fallen three-farthings an ell; and that’s another

good penny out of my pocket. When I go to market to sell, my commodity

stinks; but when I want to buy the commonest thing, the owner pricks

it up under my nose; and it can’t be had for love nor money--I think

everything runs cross at Brambleton-hall--You say the gander has broke

the eggs; which is a phinumenon I don’t understand: for when the fox

carried off the old goose last year, he took her place, and hatched the

eggs, and partected the goslings like a tender parent--Then you tell me

the thunder has soured two barrels of beer in the seller. But how the

thunder should get there, when the seller was double-locked, I can’t

comprehend. Howsomever, I won’t have the beer thrown out, till I see it

with my own eyes. Perhaps, it will recover--At least it will serve for

vinegar to the servants.--You may leave off the fires in my brother’s

chamber and mine, as it is unsartain when we return.--I hope, Gwyllim,

you’ll take care there is no waste; and have an eye to the maids, and

keep them to their spinning. I think they may go very well without beer

in hot weather--it serves only to inflame the blood, and set them

a-gog after the men. Water will make them fair and keep them cool and

tamperit. Don’t forget to put up in the portmantel, that cums with

Williams, along with my riding-habit, hat, and feather, the viol of purl

water, and the tincktur for my stomach; being as how I am much troubled

with flutterencies. This is all at present, from

Yours, TABITHA BRAMBLE BATH, April 26.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR DICK,

I have done with the waters; therefore your advice comes a day too late

I grant that physic is no mystery of your making. I know it is a mystery

in its own nature; and, like other mysteries, requires a strong gulp of

faith to make it go down--Two days ago, I went into the King’s Bath,

by the advice of our friend Ch--, in order to clear the strainer of the

skin, for the benefit of a free perspiration; and the first object that

saluted my eye, was a child full of scrophulous ulcers, carried in the

arms of one of the guides, under the very noses of the bathers. I was

so shocked at the sight, that I retired immediately with indignation

and disgust--Suppose the matter of those ulcers, floating on the water,

comes in contact with my skin, when the pores are all open, I would ask

you what must be the consequence?--Good Heaven, the very thought makes

my blood run cold! we know not what sores may be running into the water

while we are bathing, and what sort of matter we may thus imbibe; the

king’s-evil, the scurvy, the cancer, and the pox; and, no doubt, the

heat will render the virus the more volatile and penetrating. To purify

myself from all such contamination, I went to the duke of Kingston’s

private Bath, and there I was almost suffocated for want of free air;

the place was so small, and the steam so stifling.

After all, if the intention is no more than to wash the skin, I

am convinced that simple element is more effectual than any water

impregnated with salt and iron; which, being astringent, will certainly

contract the pores, and leave a kind of crust upon the surface of the

body. But I am now as much afraid of drinking, as of bathing; for, after

a long conversation with the Doctor, about the construction of the

pump and the cistern, it is very far from being clear with me, that the

patients in the Pump-room don’t swallow the scourings of the bathers. I

can’t help suspecting, that there is, or may be, some regurgitation from

the bath into the cistern of the pump. In that case, what a delicate

beveridge is every day quaffed by the drinkers; medicated with the sweat

and dirt, and dandriff; and the abominable discharges of various kinds,

from twenty different diseased bodies, parboiling in the kettle below.

In order to avoid this filthy composition, I had recourse to the spring

that supplies the private baths on the Abbey-green; but I at once

perceived something extraordinary in the taste and smell; and, upon

inquiry, I find that the Roman baths in this quarter, were found covered

by an old burying ground, belonging to the Abbey; through which, in all

probability, the water drains in its passage; so that as we drink the

decoction of living bodies at the Pump-room, we swallow the strainings

of rotten bones and carcasses at the private bath. I vow to God, the

very idea turns my stomach! Determined, as I am, against any farther use

of the Bath waters, this consideration would give me little disturbance,

if I could find any thing more pure, or less pernicious, to quench my

thirst; but, although the natural springs of excellent water are seen

gushing spontaneous on every side, from the hills that surround us, the

inhabitants, in general, make use of well-water, so impregnated with

nitre, or alum, or some other villainous mineral, that it is equally

ungrateful to the taste, and mischievous to the constitution. It must

be owned, indeed, that here, in Milsham-street, we have a precarious and

scanty supply from the hill; which is collected in an open bason in

the Circus, liable to be defiled with dead dogs, cats, rats, and every

species of nastiness, which the rascally populace may throw into it,

from mere wantonness and brutality. Well, there is no nation that drinks

so hoggishly as the English.

What passes for wine among us, is not the juice of the grape. It is an

adulterous mixture, brewed up of nauseous ingredients, by dunces,

who are bunglers in the art of poison-making; and yet we, and our

forefathers, are and have been poisoned by this cursed drench, without

taste or flavour--The only genuine and wholesome beveridge in England,

is London porter, and Dorchester table-beer; but as for your ale and

your gin, your cyder and your perry, and all the trashy family of

made wines, I detest them as infernal compositions, contrived for the

destruction of the human species--But what have I to do with the human

species? except a very few friends, I care not if the whole was--.

Heark ye, Lewis, my misanthropy increases every day--The longer I

live, I find the folly and the fraud of mankind grow more and more

intolerable--I wish I had not come from Brambletonhall; after having

lived in solitude so long, I cannot bear the hurry and impertinence of

the multitude; besides, every thing is sophisticated in these crowded

places. Snares are laid for our lives in every thing we eat or drink:

the very air we breathe, is loaded with contagion. We cannot even

sleep, without risque of infection. I say, infection--This place is

the rendezvous of the diseased--You won’t deny, that many diseases are

infectious; even the consumption itself, is highly infectious. When a

person dies of it in Italy, the bed and bedding are destroyed; the other

furniture is exposed to the weather and the apartment white-washed,

before it is occupied by any other living soul. You’ll allow, that

nothing receives infection sooner, or retains it longer, than blankets,

feather-beds, and matrasses--‘Sdeath! how do I know what miserable

objects have been stewing in the bed where I now lie!--I wonder, Dick,

you did not put me in mind of sending for my own matrasses--But, if I

had not been an ass, I should not have needed a remembrancer--There is

always some plaguy reflection that rises up in judgment against me, and

ruffles my spirits--Therefore, let us change the subject.

I have other reasons for abridging my stay at Bath--You know sister

Tabby’s complexion--If Mrs Tabitha Bramble had been of any other race,

I should certainly have considered her as the most--. But, the truth

is, she has found means to interest my affection; or, rather, she is

beholden to the force of prejudice, commonly called the ties of

blood. Well, this amiable maiden has actually commenced a flirting

correspondence with an Irish baronet of sixty-five. His name is Sir Ulic

Mackilligut. He is said to be much out at elbows; and, I believe, has

received false intelligence with respect to her fortune. Be that as

it may, the connexion is exceedingly ridiculous, and begins already

to excite whispers. For my part, I have no intention to dispute her

free-agency; though I shall fall upon some expedient to undeceive her

paramour, as to the point which he has principally in view. But I don’t

think her conduct is a proper example for Liddy, who has also attracted

the notice of some coxcombs in the Rooms; and Jery tells me, he suspects

a strapping fellow, the knight’s nephew, of some design upon the girl’s

heart. I shall, therefore, keep a strict eye over her aunt and her,

and even shift the scene, if I find the matter grow more serious--You

perceive what an agreeable task it must be, to a man of my kidney, to

have the cure of such souls as these.--But, hold, You shall not have

another peevish word (till the next occasion) from

Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE BATH, April 28.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR KNIGHT,

I think those people are unreasonable, who complain that Bath is a

contracted circle, in which the same dull scenes perpetually revolve,

without variation--I am, on the contrary, amazed to find so small a

place so crowded with entertainment and variety. London itself can

hardly exhibit one species of diversion, to which we have not something

analogous at Bath, over and above those singular advantages that are

peculiar to the place. Here, for example, a man has daily opportunities

of seeing the most remarkable characters of the community. He sees

them in their natural attitudes and true colours; descended from their

pedestals, and divested of their formal draperies, undisguised by art

and affectation--Here we have ministers of state, judges, generals,

bishops, projectors, philosophers, wits, poets, players, chemists,

fiddlers, and buffoons. If he makes any considerable stay in the place,

he is sure of meeting with some particular friend, whom he did not

expect to see; and to me there is nothing more agreeable than such

casual reencounters. Another entertainment, peculiar to Bath, arises

from the general mixture of all degrees assembled in our public

rooms, without distinction of rank or fortune. This is what my uncle

reprobates, as a monstrous jumble of heterogeneous principles; a vile

mob of noise and impertinence, without decency or subordination. But

this chaos is to me a source of infinite amusement.

I was extremely diverted last ball-night to see the Master of the

Ceremonies leading, with great solemnity, to the upper end of the room,

an antiquated Abigail, dressed in her lady’s cast-clothes; whom he (I

suppose) mistook for some countess just arrived at the Bath. The

ball was opened by a Scotch lord, with a mulatto heiress from St

Christopher’s; and the gay colonel Tinsel danced all the evening

with the daughter of an eminent tinman from the borough of Southwark.

Yesterday morning, at the Pump-room, I saw a broken-winded

Wapping landlady squeeze through a circle of peers, to salute her

brandy-merchant, who stood by the window, propped upon crutches; and a

paralytic attorney of Shoe-lane, in shuffling up to the bar, kicked the

shins of the chancellor of England, while his lordship, in a cut bob,

drank a glass of water at the pump. I cannot account for my being

pleased with these incidents, any other way, than by saying they are

truly ridiculous in their own nature, and serve to heighten the humour

in the farce of life, which I am determined to enjoy as long as I can.

Those follies, that move my uncle’s spleen, excite my laughter. He is

as tender as a man without a skin; who cannot bear the slightest touch

without flinching. What tickles another would give him torment; and

yet he has what we may call lucid intervals, when he is remarkably

facetious--Indeed, I never knew a hypochondriac so apt to be infected

with good-humour. He is the most risible misanthrope I ever met with.

A lucky joke, or any ludicrous incident, will set him a-laughing

immoderately, even in one of his most gloomy paroxysms; and, when the

laugh is over, he will curse his own imbecility. In conversing with

strangers, he betrays no marks of disquiet--He is splenetic with his

familiars only; and not even with them, while they keep his attention

employed; but when his spirits are not exerted externally, they seem

to recoil and prey upon himself--He has renounced the waters with

execration; but he begins to find a more efficacious, and, certainly,

a much more palatable remedy in the pleasures of society. He has

discovered some old friends, among the invalids of Bath; and, in

particular, renewed his acquaintance with the celebrated James Quin, who

certainly did not come here to drink water. You cannot doubt, but that I

had the strongest curiosity to know this original; and it was gratified

by Mr Bramble, who has had him twice at our house to dinner.

So far as I am able to judge, Quin’s character is rather more

respectable than it has been generally represented. His bon mots are in

every witling’s mouth; but many of them have a rank flavour, which one

would be apt to think was derived from a natural grossness of idea.

I suspect, however, that justice has not been done the author, by the

collectors of those Quiniana; who have let the best of them slip through

their fingers, and only retained such as were suited to the taste and

organs of the multitude. How far he may relax in his hours of jollity, I

cannot pretend to say; but his general conversation is conducted by the

nicest rules of Propriety; and Mr James Quin is, certainly, one of the

best bred men in the kingdom. He is not only a most agreeable companion

but (as I am credibly informed) a very honest man; highly susceptible

of friendship, warm, steady, and even generous in his attachments,

disdaining flattery, and incapable of meanness and dissimulation. Were I

to judge, however, from Quin’s eye alone, I should take him to be proud,

insolent, and cruel. There is something remarkably severe and forbidding

in his aspect; and, I have been told, he was ever disposed to insult his

inferiors and dependants.--Perhaps that report has influenced my opinion

of his looks--You know we are the fools of prejudice. Howsoever that may

be, I have as yet seen nothing but his favourable side, and my uncle,

who frequently confers with him, in a corner, declares he is one of the

most sensible men he ever knew--He seems to have a reciprocal regard for

old Squaretoes, whom he calls by the familiar name of Matthew, and often

reminds of their old tavern-adventures: on the other hand, Matthew’s

eyes sparkle whenever Quin makes his appearance--Let him be never so

jarring and discordant, Quin puts him in tune; and, like treble and bass

in the same concert, they make excellent music together--. T’other day,

the conversation turning upon Shakespeare, I could not help saying, with

some emotion, that I would give an hundred guineas to see Mr Quin act

the part of Falstaff; upon which, turning to me with a smile, ‘And I

would give a thousand, young gentleman (said he) that I could gratify

your longing.’ My uncle and he are perfectly agreed in their estimate of

life; which Quin says, would stink in his nostrils, if he did not steep

it in claret.

I want to see this phenomenon in his cups; and have almost prevailed

upon uncle to give him a small turtle at the Bear. In the mean time, I

must entertain you with an incident, that seems to confirm the judgment

of those two cynic philosophers. I took the liberty to differ in opinion

from Mr Bramble, when he observed, that the mixture of people in the

entertainments of this place was destructive of all order and urbanity;

that it rendered the plebeians insufferably arrogant and troublesome,

and vulgarized the deportment and sentiments of those who moved in the

upper spheres of life. He said such a preposterous coalition would bring

us into contempt with all our neighbours; and was worse, in fact, than

debasing the gold coin of the nation. I argued, on the contrary, that

those plebeians who discovered such eagerness to imitate the dress and

equipage of their superiors, would likewise, in time, adopt their maxims

and their manners, be polished by their conversation, and refined by

their example; but when I appealed to Mr Quin, and asked if he did not

think that such an unreserved mixture would improve the whole mass? ‘Yes

(said he) as a plate of marmalade would improve a pan of sirreverence.’

I owned I was not much conversant in high-life, but I had seen what were

called polite assemblies in London and elsewhere; that those of Bath

seemed to be as decent as any; and that, upon the whole, the individuals

that composed it, would not be found deficient in good manners and

decorum. ‘But let us have recourse to experience (said I)--Jack Holder,

who was intended for a parson, has succeeded to an estate of two

thousand a year, by the death of his elder brother. He is now at the

Bath, driving about in a phaeton and four, with French horns. He has

treated with turtle and claret at all the taverns in Bath and Bristol,

till his guests are gorged with good chear: he has bought a dozen suits

of fine clothes, by the advice of the Master of the Ceremonies, under

whose tuition he has entered himself. He has lost hundreds at billiards

to sharpers, and taken one of the nymphs of Avon-street into keeping;

but, finding all these channels insufficient to drain him of his current

cash, his counsellor has engaged him to give a general tea-drinking

to-morrow at Wiltshire’s room. In order to give it the more eclat, every

table is to be furnished with sweet-meats and nosegays; which, however,

are not to be touched till notice is given by the ringing of a bell, and

then the ladies may help themselves without restriction. This will be no

bad way of trying the company’s breeding.’

‘I will abide by that experiment (cried my uncle) and if I could find

a place to stand secure, without the vortex of the tumult, which I know

will ensue, I would certainly go thither and enjoy the scene.’ Quin

proposed that we should take our station in the music-gallery, and

we took his advice. Holder had got thither before us, with his horns

perdue, but we were admitted. The tea-drinking passed as usual, and the

company having risen from the tables, were sauntering in groupes, in

expectation of the signal for attack, when the bell beginning to

ring, they flew with eagerness to the dessert, and the whole place was

instantly in commotion. There was nothing but justling, scrambling,

pulling, snatching, struggling, scolding, and screaming. The nosegays

were torn from one another’s hands and bosoms; the glasses and china

went to wreck; the tables and floors were strewed with comfits. Some

cried; some swore; and the tropes and figures of Billingsgate were used

without reserve in all their native zest and flavour; nor were those

flowers of rhetoric unattended with significant gesticulation. Some

snapped their fingers; some forked them out; some clapped their hands,

and some their back-sides; at length, they fairly proceeded to pulling

caps, and every thing seemed to presage a general battle; when Holder

ordered his horns to sound a charge, with a view to animate the

combatants, and inflame the contest; but this manoeuvre produced an

effect quite contrary to what he expected. It was a note of reproach

that roused them to an immediate sense of their disgraceful situation.

They were ashamed of their absurd deportment, and suddenly desisted.

They gathered up their caps, ruffles, and handkerchiefs; and great part

of them retired in silent mortification.

Quin laughed at this adventure; but my uncle’s delicacy was hurt. He

hung his head in manifest chagrin, and seemed to repine at the triumph

of his judgment--Indeed, his victory was more complete than he imagined;

for, as we afterwards learned, the two amazons who singularized

themselves most in the action, did not come from the purlieus of

Puddle-dock, but from the courtly neighbourhood of St James’s palace.

One was a baroness, and the other, a wealthy knight’s dowager--My uncle

spoke not a word, till we had made our retreat good to the coffee-house;

where, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead, ‘I bless God (said

he) that Mrs Tabitha Bramble did not take the field today!’ ‘I would pit

her for a cool hundred (cried Quin) against the best shake-bag of the

whole main.’ The truth is, nothing could have kept her at home but the

accident of her having taken physic before she knew the nature of the

entertainment. She has been for some days furbishing up an old suit of

black velvet, to make her appearance as Sir Ulic’s partner at the next

ball.

I have much to say of this amiable kinswoman; but she has not been

properly introduced to your acquaintance. She is remarkably civil to

Mr Quin; of whose sarcastic humour she seems to stand in awe; but her

caution is no match for her impertinence. ‘Mr Gwynn (said she the other

day) I was once vastly entertained with your playing the Ghost of Gimlet

at Drury-lane, when you rose up through the stage, with a white face and

red eyes, and spoke of quails upon the frightful porcofine--Do, pray,

spout a little the Ghost of Gimlet.’ ‘Madam (said Quin, with a glance of

ineffable disdain) the Ghost of Gimlet is laid, never to rise again’--

Insensible of this check, she proceeded: ‘Well, to be sure, you looked

and talked so like a real ghost; and then the cock crowed so natural.

I wonder how you could teach him to crow so exact, in the very nick of

time; but, I suppose, he’s game--An’t he game, Mr Gwynn?’ ‘Dunghill,

madam.’--‘Well, dunghill, or not dunghill, he has got such a clear

counter-tenor, that I wish I had such another at Brambleton-hall, to

wake the maids of a morning. Do you know where I could find one of his

brood?’ ‘Probably in the work-house at St Giles’s parish, madam; but I

protest I know not his particular mew!’ My uncle, frying with vexation,

cried, ‘Good God, sister, how you talk! I have told you twenty times,

that this gentleman’s name is not Gwynn.’--‘Hoity toity, brother mine

(she replied) no offence, I hope--Gwynn is an honorable name, of true

old British extraction--I thought the gentleman had been come of Mrs

Helen Gwynn, who was of his own profession; and if so be that were the

case, he might be of king Charles’s breed, and have royal blood in his

veins.’--‘No, madam (answered Quin, with great solemnity) my mother was

not a whore of such distinction--True it is, I am sometimes tempted

to believe myself of royal descent; for my inclinations are often

arbitrary--If I was an absolute prince, at this instant, I believe I

should send for the head of your cook in a charger--She has committed

felony, on the person of that John Dory, which is mangled in a cruel

manner, and even presented without sauce--O tempora! O mores!’

This good-humoured sally turned the conversation into a less

disagreeable channel--But, lest you should think my scribble as tedious

as Mrs Tabby’s clack, I shall not add another word, but that I am as

usual

Yours, J. MELFORD BATH, April 30.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR LEWIS,

I received your bill upon Wiltshire, which was punctually honoured; but

as I don’t choose to keep so much cash by me, in a common lodging house,

I have deposited 250l. in the bank of Bath, and shall take their bills

for it in London, when I leave this place, where the season draws to an

end--You must know, that now being a-foot, I am resolved to give Liddy a

glimpse of London. She is one of the best hearted creatures I ever knew,

and gains upon my affection every day--As for Tabby, I have dropt such

hints to the Irish baronet, concerning her fortune, as, I make no doubt,

will cool the ardour of his addresses. Then her pride will take the

alarm; and the rancour of stale maidenhood being chafed, we shall hear

nothing but slander and abuse of Sir Ulic Mackilligut--This rupture,

I foresee, will facilitate our departure from Bath; where, at present,

Tabby seems to enjoy herself with peculiar satisfaction. For my part, I

detest it so much, that I should not have been able to stay so long in

the place if I had not discovered some old friends; whose conversation

alleviates my disgust--Going to the coffeehouse one forenoon, I

could not help contemplating the company, with equal surprize and

compassion--We consisted of thirteen individuals; seven lamed by the

gout, rheumatism, or palsy; three maimed by accident; and the rest

either deaf or blind. One hobbled, another hopped, a third dragged his

legs after him like a wounded snake, a fourth straddled betwixt a pair

of long crutches, like the mummy of a felon hanging in chains; a fifth

was bent into a horizontal position, like a mounted telescope, shoved in

by a couple of chairmen; and a sixth was the bust of a man, set upright

in a wheel machine, which the waiter moved from place to place.

Being struck with some of their faces, I consulted the

subscription-book; and, perceiving the names of several old friends,

began to consider the groupe with more attention. At length I discovered

rear-admiral Balderick, the companion of my youth, whom I had not seen

since he was appointed lieutenant of the Severn. He was metamorphosed

into an old man, with a wooden leg and a weatherbeaten face, which

appeared the more ancient from his grey locks, that were truly

venerable--Sitting down at the table, where he was reading a news-paper,

I gazed at him for some minutes, with a mixture of pleasure and regret,

which made my heart gush with tenderness; then, taking him by the hand,

‘Ah, Sam (said I) forty years ago I little thought’--I was too much

moved to proceed. ‘An old friend, sure enough! (cried he, squeezing my

hand, and surveying me eagerly through his glasses) I know the looming

of the vessel, though she has been hard strained since we parted; but I

can’t heave up the name’--The moment I told him who I was, he exclaimed,

‘Ha! Matt, my old fellow cruizer, still afloat!’ And, starting up,

hugged me in his arms. His transport, however, boded me no good; for, in

saluting me, he thrust the spring of his spectacles into my eye, and,

at the same time, set his wooden stump upon my gouty toe; an attack that

made me shed tears in sad earnest--After the hurry of our recognition

was over, he pointed out two of our common friends in the room: the bust

was what remained of colonel Cockril, who had lost the use of his

limbs in making an American campaign; and the telescope proved to be

my college chum, sir Reginald Bently; who, with his new title, and

unexpected inheritance, commenced fox-hunter, without having served

his apprenticeship to the mystery; and, in consequence of following the

hounds through a river, was seized with an inflammation of his bowels,

which has contracted him into his present attitude.

Our former correspondence was forthwith renewed, with the most hearty

expressions of mutual good-will, and as we had met so unexpectedly, we

agreed to dine together that very day at the tavern. My friend Quin,

being luckily unengaged, obliged us with his company; and, truly, this

the most happy day I have passed these twenty years. You and I, Lewis,

having been always together, never tasted friendship in this high gout,

contracted from long absence. I cannot express the half of what I felt

at this casual meeting of three or four companions, who had been so

long separated, and so roughly treated by the storms of life. It was a

renovation of youth; a kind of resuscitation of the dead, that realized

those interesting dreams, in which we sometimes retrieve our ancient

friends from the grave. Perhaps my enjoyment was not the less pleasing

for being mixed with a strain of melancholy, produced by the remembrance

of past scenes, that conjured up the ideas of some endearing connexions,

which the hand of Death has actually dissolved.

The spirits and good humour of the company seemed to triumph over the

wreck of their constitutions. They had even philosophy enough to

joke upon their own calamities; such is the power of friendship, the

sovereign cordial of life--I afterwards found, however, that they were

not without their moments, and even hours of disquiet. Each of them

apart, in succeeding conferences, expatiated upon his own particular

grievances; and they were all malcontents at bottom--Over and above

their personal disasters, they thought themselves unfortunate in the

lottery of life. Balderick complained, that all the recompence he

had received for his long and hard service, was the half-pay of a

rear-admiral. The colonel was mortified to see himself over-topped by

upstart generals, some of whom he had once commanded; and, being a man

of a liberal turn, could ill put up with a moderate annuity, for which

he had sold his commission. As for the baronet, having run himself

considerably in debt, on a contested election, he has been obliged to

relinquish his seat in parliament, and his seat in the country at the

same time, and put his estate to nurse; but his chagrin, which is the

effect of his own misconduct, does not affect me half so much as that of

the other two, who have acted honourable and distinguished parts on the

great theatre, and are now reduced to lead a weary life in this stew-pan

of idleness and insignificance. They have long left off using the

waters, after having experienced their inefficacy. The diversions of the

place they are not in a condition to enjoy. How then do they make shift

to pass their time? In the forenoon they crawl out to the Rooms or

the coffeehouse, where they take a hand at whist, or descant upon the

General Advertiser; and their evenings they murder in private parties,

among peevish invalids, and insipid old women--This is the case with

a good number of individuals, whom nature seems to have intended for

better purposes.

About a dozen years ago, many decent families, restricted to small

fortunes, besides those that came hither on the score of health, were

tempted to settle at Bath, where they could then live comfortably, and

even make a genteel appearance, at a small expence: but the madness of

the times has made the place too hot for them, and they are now obliged

to think of other migrations--Some have already fled to the mountains

of Wales, and others have retired to Exeter. Thither, no doubt, they

will be followed by the flood of luxury and extravagance, which will

drive them from place to place to the very Land’s End; and there, I

suppose, they will be obliged to ship themselves to some other country.

Bath is become a mere sink of profligacy and extortion. Every article of

house-keeping is raised to an enormous price; a circumstance no longer

to be wondered at, when we know that every petty retainer of fortune

piques himself upon keeping a table, and thinks it is for the honour

of his character to wink at the knavery of his servants, who are in a

confederacy with the market-people; and, of consequence, pay whatever

they demand. Here is now a mushroom of opulence, who pays a cook seventy

guineas a week for furnishing him with one meal a day. This portentous

frenzy is become so contagious, that the very rabble and refuse of

mankind are infected. I have known a negro-driver, from Jamaica, pay

over-night, to the master of one of the rooms, sixty-five guineas for

tea and coffee to the company, and leave Bath next morning, in such

obscurity, that not one of his guests had the slightest idea of his

person, or even made the least inquiry about his name. Incidents of this

kind are frequent; and every day teems with fresh absurdities, which are

too gross to make a thinking man merry.

--But I feel the spleen creeping on me apace; and therefore will indulge

you with a cessation, that you may have no unnecessary cause to curse

your correspondence with,

Dear Dick, Yours ever, MAT. BRAMBLE BATH, May 5.

To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester.

MY DEAR LETTY,

I wrote you at great length by the post, the twenty-sixth of last month,

to which I refer you for an account of our proceedings at Bath; and I

expect your answer with impatience. But, having this opportunity of a

private hand, I send you two dozen of Bath rings; six of the best of

which I desire you will keep for yourself, and distribute the rest among

the young ladies, our common friends, as you shall think proper--I don’t

know how you will approve of the mottoes; some of them are not much

to my own liking; but I was obliged to take such as I could find ready

manufactured--I am vexed, that neither you nor I have received any

further information of a certain person--Sure it cannot be wilful

neglect!--O my dear Willis! I begin to be visited by strange fancies,

and to have some melancholy doubts; which, however, it would be

ungenerous to harbour without further inquiry--My uncle, who has made

me a present of a very fine set of garnets, talks of treating us with a

jaunt to London; which, you may imagine, will be highly agreeable; but

I like Bath so well, that I hope he won’t think of leaving it till the

season is quite over; and yet, betwixt friends, something has happened

to my aunt, which will probably shorten our stay in this place.

Yesterday, in the forenoon, she went by herself to a breakfasting in one

of the rooms; and, in half an hour, returned in great agitation, having

Chowder along with her in the chair. I believe some accident must have

happened to that unlucky animal, which is the great source of all her

troubles. Dear Letty! what a pity it is, that a woman of her years

and discretion, should place her affection upon such an ugly,

ill-conditioned cur, that snarls and snaps at every body. I asked John

Thomas, the footman who attended her, what was the matter? and he did

nothing but grin. A famous dog-doctor was sent for, and undertook to

cure the patient, provided he might carry him home to his own house; but

his mistress would not part with him out of her own sight--She ordered

the cook to warm cloths, which she applied to his bowels, with her own

hand. She gave up all thoughts of going to the ball in the evening; and

when Sir Ulic came to drink tea, refused to be seen; so that he went

away to look for another partner. My brother Jery whistles and dances.

My uncle sometimes shrugs up his shoulders, and sometimes bursts out

a-laughing. My aunt sobs and scolds by turns; and her woman, Win.

Jenkins, stares and wonders with a foolish face of curiosity; and, for

my part, I am as curious as she, but ashamed to ask questions.

Perhaps time will discover the mystery; for if it was any thing that

happened in the Rooms, it cannot be long concealed--All I know is, that

last night at supper, miss Bramble spoke very disdainfully of Sir Ulic

Mackilligut, and asked her brother if he intended to keep us sweltering

all the summer at Bath? ‘No, sister Tabitha (said he, with an arch

smile) we shall retreat before the Dog-days begin; though I make no

doubt, that with a little temperance and discretion, our constitutions

might be kept cool enough all the year, even at Bath.’ As I don’t know

the meaning of this insinuation, I won’t pretend to make any remarks

upon it at present: hereafter, perhaps, I may be able to explain it more

to your satisfaction--In the mean time, I beg you will be punctual in

your correspondence, and continue to love your ever faithful

LYDIA MELFORD BATH, May 6.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

So then Mrs Blackerby’s affair has proved a false alarm, and I have

saved my money? I wish, however, her declaration had not been so

premature; for though my being thought capable of making her a mother,

might have given me some credit, the reputation of an intrigue with such

a cracked pitcher does me no honour at all In my last I told you I had

hopes of seeing Quin, in his hours of elevation at the tavern which is

the temple of mirth and good fellowship; where he, as priest of Comus,

utters the inspirations of wit and humour--I have had that satisfaction.

I have dined with his club at the Three Tuns, and had the honour to sit

him out. At half an hour past eight in the evening, he was carried

home with six good bottles of claret under his belt; and it being then

Friday, he gave orders that he should not be disturbed till Sunday at

noon--You must not imagine that this dose had any other effect upon his

conversation, but that of making it more extravagantly entertaining--He

had lost the use of his limbs, indeed, several hours before we parted,

but he retained all his other faculties in perfection; and as he gave

vent to every whimsical idea as it rose, I was really astonished at the

brilliancy of his thoughts, and the force of his expression. Quin is a

real voluptuary in the articles of eating and drinking; and so confirmed

an epicure, in the common acceptation of the term, that he cannot put up

with ordinary fare. This is a point of such importance with him, that he

always takes upon himself the charge of catering; and a man admitted

to his mess, is always sure of eating delicate victuals, and drinking

excellent wine--He owns himself addicted to the delights of the stomach,

and often jokes upon his own sensuality; but there is nothing selfish in

this appetite--He finds that good chear unites good company, exhilerates

the spirits, opens the heart, banishes all restraint from conversation,

and promotes the happiest purposes of social life. But Mr James Quin

is not a subject to be discussed in the compass of one letter; I shall

therefore, at present, leave him to his repose, and call another of a

very different complexion.

You desire to have further acquaintance with the person of our aunt,

and promise yourself much entertainment from her connexion with Sir Ulic

Mackilligut: but in this hope you are baulked already; that connexion is

dissolved. The Irish baronet is an old hound, that, finding her carrion,

has quitted the scent--I have already told you, that Mrs Tabitha Bramble

is a maiden of forty-five. In her person, she is tall, raw-boned,

aukward, flat-chested, and stooping; her complexion is sallow and

freckled; her eyes are not grey, but greenish, like those of a cat, and

generally inflamed; her hair is of a sandy, or rather dusty hue; her

forehead low; her nose long, sharp, and, towards the extremity, always

red in cool weather; her lips skinny, her mouth extensive, her teeth

straggling and loose, of various colours and conformation; and her long

neck shrivelled into a thousand wrinkles--In her temper, she is proud,

stiff, vain, imperious, prying, malicious, greedy, and uncharitable. In

all likelihood, her natural austerity has been soured by disappointment

in love; for her long celibacy is by no means owing to her dislike of

matrimony: on the contrary, she has left no stone unturned to avoid the

reproachful epithet of old maid.

Before I was born, she had gone such lengths in the way of flirting

with a recruiting officer, that her reputation was a little singed. She

afterwards made advances to the curate of the parish, who dropped some

distant hints about the next presentation to the living, which was in

her brother’s gift; but finding that was already promised to another, he

flew off at a tangent; and Mrs Tabby, in revenge, found means to deprive

him of his cure. Her next lover was lieutenant of a man of war, a

relation of the family, who did not understand the refinements of the

passion, and expressed no aversion to grapple with cousin Tabby in the

way of marriage; but before matters could be properly adjusted, he went

out on a cruise, and was killed in an engagement with a French frigate.

Our aunt, though baffled so often, did not yet despair. She layed all

her snares for Dr Lewis, who is the fidus Achates of my uncle. She even

fell sick upon the occasion, and prevailed with Matt to interpose in her

behalf with his friend; but the Doctor, being a shy cock, would not be

caught with chaff, and flatly rejected the proposal: so that Mrs Tabitha

was content to exert her patience once more, after having endeavoured

in vain to effect a rupture betwixt the two friends; and now she thinks

proper to be very civil to Lewis, who is become necessary to her in the

way of his profession.

These, however, are not the only efforts she has made towards a nearer

conjunction with our sex. Her fortune was originally no more than a

thousand pounds; but she gained an accession of five hundred by the

death of a sister, and the lieutenant left her three hundred in his

will. These sums she has more than doubled, by living free of all

expence, in her brother’s house; and dealing in cheese and Welsh

flannel, the produce of his flocks and dairy. At present her capital is

increased to about four thousand pounds; and her avarice seems to grow

every day more and more rapacious: but even this is not so intolerable

as the perverseness of her nature, which keeps the whole family

in disquiet and uproar. She is one of those geniuses who find

some diabolical enjoyment in being dreaded and detested by their

fellow-creatures.

I once told my uncle, I was surprised that a man of his disposition

could bear such a domestic plague, when it could be so easily removed.

The remark made him sore, because it seemed to tax him with want of

resolution--Wrinkling up his nose, and drawing down his eye-brows, ‘A

young fellow (said he) when he first thrusts his snout into the world,

is apt to be surprised at many things which a man of experience knows

to be ordinary and unavoidable--This precious aunt of yours is become

insensibly a part of my constitution--Damn her! She’s a noli me tangere

in my flesh, which I cannot bear to be touched or tampered with.’ I made

no reply; but shifted the conversation. He really has an affection for

this original; which maintains its ground in defiance of common sense,

and in despite of that contempt which he must certainly feel for her

character and understanding. Nay, I am convinced, that she has likewise

a most virulent attachment to his person; though her love never shews

itself but in the shape of discontent; and she persists in tormenting

him out of pure tenderness--The only object within doors upon which she

bestows any marks of affection, in the usual stile, is her dog Chowder;

a filthy cur from Newfoundland, which she had in a present from the wife

of a skipper in Swansey. One would imagine she had distinguished this

beast with her favour on account of his ugliness and ill-nature, if it

was not, indeed, an instinctive sympathy, between his disposition and

her own. Certain it is, she caresses him without ceasing; and even

harasses the family in the service of this cursed animal, which, indeed,

has proved the proximate cause of her breach with Sir Ulic Mackilligut.

You must know, she yesterday wanted to steal a march of poor Liddy, and

went to breakfast in the Room without any other companion than her dog,

in expectation of meeting with the Baronet, who had agreed to dance with

her in the evening--Chowder no sooner made his appearance in the Room,

than the Master of the Ceremonies, incensed at his presumption, ran

up to drive him away, and threatened him with his foot; but the other

seemed to despise his authority, and displaying a formidable case of

long, white, sharp teeth, kept the puny monarch at bay--While he stood

under some trepidation, fronting his antagonist, and bawling to the

waiter, Sir Ulic Mackilligut came to his assistance; and seeming

ignorant of the connexion between this intruder and his mistress, gave

the former such a kick in the jaws, as sent him howling to the door--Mrs

Tabitha, incensed at this outrage, ran after him, squalling in a tone

equally disagreeable; while the Baronet followed her on one side,

making apologies for his mistake; and Derrick on the other, making

remonstrances upon the rules and regulations of the place.

Far from being satisfied with the Knight’s excuses, she said she was

sure he was no gentleman; and when the Master of the Ceremonies offered

to hand her into the chair, she rapped him over the knuckles with her

fan. My uncle’s footman being still at the door, she and Chowder got

into the same vehicle, and were carried off amidst the jokes of the

chairmen and other populace--I had been riding out on Clerkendown, and

happened to enter just as the fracas was over--The Baronet, coming up to

me with an affected air of chagrin, recounted the adventure; at which

I laughed heartily, and then his countenance cleared up. ‘My dear soul

(said he) when I saw a sort of a wild baist, snarling with open mouth

at the Master of the Ceremonies, like the red cow going to devour Tom

Thumb, I could do no less than go to the assistance of the little man;

but I never dreamt the baist was one of Mrs Bramble’s attendants--O! if

I had, he might have made his breakfast upon Derrick and welcome--But

you know, my dear friend, how natural it is for us Irishmen to blunder,

and to take the wrong sow by the ear--However, I will confess judgment,

and cry her mercy; and it is to be hoped, a penitent sinner may be

forgiven.’ I told him, that as the offence was not voluntary of his

side, it was to be hoped he would not find her implacable.

But, in truth, all this concern was dissembled. In his approaches of

gallantry to Mrs Tabitha, he had been misled by a mistake of at least

six thousand pounds, in the calculation of her fortune; and in this

particular he was just undeceived. He, therefore, seized the first

opportunity of incurring her displeasure decently, in such a manner as

would certainly annihilate the correspondence; and he could not have

taken a more effectual method, than that of beating her dog. When he

presented himself at our door, to pay his respects to the offended fair,

he was refused admittance, and given to understand that he should never

find her at home for the future. She was not so inaccessible to Derrick,

who came to demand satisfaction for the insult she had offered to him,

even in the verge of his own court. She knew it was convenient to be

well with the Master of the Ceremonies, while she continued to frequent

the Rooms; and, having heard he was a poet, began to be afraid of making

her appearance in a ballad or lampoon.--She therefore made excuses

for what she had done, imputing it to the flutter of her spirits; and

subscribed handsomely for his poems: so that he was perfectly appeased,

and overwhelmed her with a profusion of compliment. He even solicited a

reconciliation with Chowder; which, however, the latter declined; and he

declared, that if he could find a precedent in the annals of the Bath,

which he would carefully examine for that purpose, her favourite should

be admitted to the next public breakfasting--But, I, believe, she will

not expose herself or him to the risque of a second disgrace--Who will

supply the place of Mackilligut in her affections, I cannot foresee;

but nothing in the shape of man can come amiss. Though she is a violent

church-woman, of the most intolerant zeal, I believe in my conscience

she would have no objection, at present, to treat on the score of

matrimony with an Anabaptist, Quaker, or Jew; and even ratify the treaty

at the expense of her own conversion. But, perhaps, I think too hardly

of this kinswoman; who, I must own, is very little beholden to the good

opinion of

Yours, J. MELFORD BATH, May 6.

To Dr LEWIS.

You ask me, why I don’t take the air a-horseback, during this fine

weather?--In which of the avenues of this paradise would you have me

take that exercise? Shall I commit myself to the high-roads of London

or Bristol, to be stifled with dust, or pressed to death in the midst

of post-chaises, flying-machines, waggons, and coal-horses; besides

the troops of fine gentlemen that take to the highway, to shew their

horsemanship; and the coaches of fine ladies, who go thither to shew

their equipages? Shall I attempt the Downs, and fatigue myself to death

in climbing up an eternal ascent, without any hopes of reaching the

summit? Know then, I have made divers desperate leaps at those upper

regions; but always fell backward into this vapour-pit, exhausted

and dispirited by those ineffectual efforts; and here we poor

valetudinarians pant and struggle, like so many Chinese gudgeons,

gasping in the bottom of a punch-bowl. By Heaven it is a kind of

enchantment! If I do not speedily break the spell, and escape, I may

chance to give up the ghost in this nauseous stew of corruption--It was

but two nights ago, that I had like to have made my public exit, at a

minute’s warning. One of my greatest weaknesses is that of suffering

myself to be over-ruled by the opinion of people, whose judgment I

despise--I own, with shame and confusion of face, that importunity

of any kind I cannot resist. This want of courage and constancy is an

original flaw in my nature, which you must have often observed with

compassion, if not with contempt. I am afraid some of our boasted

virtues maybe traced up to this defect.

Without further preamble, I was persuaded to go to a ball, on purpose to

see Liddy dance a minuet with a young petulant jackanapes, the only

son of a wealthy undertaker from London, whose mother lodges in our

neighbourhood, and has contracted an acquaintance with Tabby. I sat a

couple of long hours, half stifled, in the midst of a noisome crowd;

and could not help wondering that so many hundreds of those that rank as

rational creatures, could find entertainment in seeing a succession of

insipid animals, describing the same dull figure for a whole evening, on

an area, not much bigger than a taylor’s shop-board. If there had been

any beauty, grace, activity, magnificent dress, or variety of any kind

howsoever absurd, to engage the attention, and amuse the fancy, I should

not have been surprised; but there was no such object: it was a tiresome

repetition of the same languid, frivolous scene, performed by actors

that seemed to sleep in all their motions. The continual swimming of

these phantoms before my eyes, gave me a swimming of the head; which was

also affected by the fouled air, circulating through such a number of

rotten human bellows. I therefore retreated towards the door, and stood

in the passage to the next room, talking to my friend Quin; when an end

being put to the minuets, the benches were removed to make way for the

country-dances; and the multitude rising at once, the whole atmosphere

was put in commotion. Then, all of a sudden, came rushing upon me an

Egyptian gale, so impregnated with pestilential vapours, that my nerves

were overpowered, and I dropt senseless upon the floor.

You may easily conceive what a clamour and confusion this accident must

have produced, in such an assembly--I soon recovered, however, and found

myself in an easy chair, supported by my own people--Sister Tabby, in

her great tenderness, had put me to the torture, squeezing my hand under

her arm, and stuffing my nose with spirit of hartshorn, till the whole

inside was excoriated. I no sooner got home, than I sent for Doctor

Ch--, who assured me I needed not be alarmed, for my swooning was

entirely occasioned by an accidental impression of fetid effluvia upon

nerves of uncommon sensibility. I know not how other people’s nerves

are constructed; but one would imagine they must be made of very coarse

materials, to stand the shock of such a torrid assault. It was, indeed,

a compound of villainous smells, in which the most violent stinks,

and the most powerful perfumes, contended for the mastery. Imagine to

yourself a high exalted essence of mingled odours, arising from putrid

gums, imposthumated lungs, sour flatulencies, rank armpits, sweating

feet, running sores and issues, plasters, ointments, and embrocations,

hungary-water, spirit of lavender, assafoetida drops, musk, hartshorn,

and sal volatile; besides a thousand frowzy steams, which I could not

analyse. Such, O Dick! is the fragrant aether we breathe in the polite

assemblies of Bath--Such is the atmosphere I have exchanged for the

pure, elastic, animating air of the Welsh mountains--O Rus, quando te

aspiciam!---I wonder what the devil possessed me--

But few words are best: I have taken my resolution--You may well suppose

I don’t intend to entertain the company with a second exhibition--I have

promised, in an evil hour, to proceed to London, and that promise shall

be performed, but my stay in the metropolis shall be brief. I have, for

the benefit of my health, projected an expedition to the North, which, I

hope, will afford some agreeable pastime. I have never travelled farther

that way than Scarborough; and, I think, it is a reproach upon me, as a

British freeholder, to have lived so long without making an excursion to

the other side of the Tweed. Besides, I have some relations settled in

Yorkshire, to whom it may not be improper to introduce my nephew and

his sister--At present, I have nothing to add, but that Tabby is happily

disentangled from the Irish Baronet; and that I will not fail to make

you acquainted, from time to time, with the sequel of our adventures: a

mark of consideration, which, perhaps, you would willingly dispense with

in

Your humble servant, M. BRAMBLE BATH, May 8.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

A few days ago we were terribly alarmed by my uncle’s fainting at the

ball--He has been ever since cursing his own folly, for going thither at

the request of an impertinent woman. He declares, he will sooner visit

a house infected with the plague, than trust himself in such a nauseous

spital for the future, for he swears the accident was occasioned by the

stench of the crowd; and that he would never desire a stronger proof of

our being made of very gross materials, than our having withstood the

annoyance, by which he was so much discomposed. For my part, I am very

thankful for the coarseness of my organs, being in no danger of

ever falling a sacrifice to the delicacy of my nose. Mr Bramble is

extravagantly delicate in all his sensations, both of soul and body. I

was informed by Dr Lewis, that he once fought a duel with an officer

of the horseguards, for turning aside to the Park-wall, on a necessary

occasion, when he was passing with a lady under his protection. His

blood rises at every instance of insolence and cruelty, even where he

himself is no way concerned; and ingratitude makes his teeth chatter. On

the other hand, the recital of a generous, humane, or grateful action,

never fails to draw from him tears of approbation, which he is often

greatly distressed to conceal.

Yesterday, one Paunceford gave tea, on particular invitation--This man,

after having been long buffetted by adversity, went abroad; and Fortune,

resolved to make him amends for her former coyness, set him all at once

up to the very ears in affluence. He has now emerged from obscurity,

and blazes out in all the tinsel of the times. I don’t find that he is

charged with any practices that the law deems dishonest, or that his

wealth has made him arrogant and inaccessible; on the contrary, he

takes great pains to appear affable and gracious. But, they say, he

is remarkable for shrinking from his former friendships, which were

generally too plain and home-spun to appear amidst his present brilliant

connexions; and that he seems uneasy at sight of some old benefactors,

whom a man of honour would take pleasure to acknowledge--Be that as it

may, he had so effectually engaged the company at Bath, that when I went

with my uncle to the coffeehouse in the evening, there was not a soul

in the room but one person, seemingly in years, who sat by the fire,

reading one of the papers. Mr Bramble, taking his station close by

him, ‘There is such a crowd and confusion of chairs in the passage to

Simpson’s (said he) that we could hardly get along--I wish those

minions of fortune would fall upon more laudable ways of spending their

money.--I suppose, Sir, you like this kind of entertainment as little as

I do?’ ‘I cannot say I have any great relish for such entertainments,’

answered the other, without taking his eyes off the paper--‘Mr Serle

(resumed my uncle) I beg pardon for interrupting you; but I can’t resist

the curiosity I have to know if you received a card on this occasion?’

The man seemed surprised at this address, and made some pause, as

doubtful what answer he should make. ‘I know my curiosity is impertinent

(added my uncle) but I have a particular reason for asking the favour.’

‘If that be the case (replied Mr Serle) I shall gratify you without

hesitation, by owning that I have had no card. But, give me leave,

Sir, to ask in my turn, what reason you think I have to expect such an

invitation from the gentleman who gives tea?’ ‘I have my own reasons

(cried Mr Bramble, with some emotion) and am convinced, more than ever,

that this Paunceford is a contemptible fellow.’ ‘Sir (said the other,

laying down the paper) I have not the honour to know you; but your

discourse is a little mysterious, and seems to require some explanation.

The person you are pleased to treat so cavalierly, is a gentleman of

some consequence in the community; and, for aught you know, I may also

have my particular reasons for defending his character’--‘If I was not

convinced of the contrary (observed the other) I should not have gone so

far’--‘Let me tell you, Sir (said the stranger, raising his voice) you

have gone too far, in hazarding such reflections’.

Here he was interrupted by my uncle; who asked peevishly if he was

Don Quixote enough, at this time of day, to throw down his gauntlet as

champion for a man who had treated him with such ungrateful neglect.

‘For my part (added he) I shall never quarrel with you again upon this

subject; and what I have said now, has been suggested as much by my

regard for you, as by my contempt of him’--Mr Serle, then pulling off

his spectacles, eyed uncle very earnestly, saying, in a mitigated

tone, ‘Surely I am much obliged--Ah, Mr Bramble! I now recollect your

features, though I have not seen you these many years.’ ‘We might

have been less strangers to one another (answered the squire) if

our correspondence had not been interrupted, in consequence of a

misunderstanding, occasioned by this very--, but no matter--Mr Serle, I

esteem your character; and my friendship, such as it is, you may freely

command.’ ‘The offer is too agreeable to be declined (said he); I

embrace it very cordially; and, as the first fruits of it, request that

you will change this subject, which, with me, is a matter of peculiar

delicacy.’

My uncle owned he was in the right, and the discourse took a more

general turn. Mr Serle passed the evening with us at our lodgings; and

appeared to be intelligent, and even entertaining; but his disposition

was rather of a melancholy hue. My uncle says he is a man of uncommon

parts, and unquestioned probity: that his fortune, which was originally

small, has been greatly hurt by a romantic spirit of generosity, which

he has often displayed, even at the expence of his discretion, in favour

of worthless individuals--That he had rescued Paunceford from the lowest

distress, when he was bankrupt, both in means and reputation--That

he had espoused his interests with a degree of enthusiasm, broke with

several friends, and even drawn his sword against my uncle, who had

particular reasons for questioning the moral character of the said

Paunceford: that, without Serle’s countenance and assistance, the other

never could have embraced the opportunity, which has raised him to this

pinnacle of wealth: that Paunceford, in the first transports of his

success, had written, from abroad, letters to different correspondents,

owning his obligations to Mr Serle, in the warmest terms of

acknowledgement, and declared he considered himself only as a factor

for the occasions of his best friend: that, without doubt, he had made

declarations of the same nature to his benefactor himself, though this

last was always silent and reserved on the subject; but for some years,

those tropes and figures of rhetoric had been disused; that, upon his

return to England, he had been lavish in his caresses to Mr Serle,

invited him to his house, and pressed him to make it his own: that he

had overwhelmed him with general professions, and affected to express

the warmest regard for him, in company of their common acquaintance; so

that every body believed his gratitude was liberal as his fortune; and

some went so far as to congratulate Mr Serle on both.

All this time Paunceford carefully and artfully avoided particular

discussions with his old patron, who had too much spirit to drop

the most distant hint of balancing the account of obligation: that,

nevertheless, a man of his feelings could not but resent this shocking

return for all his kindness: and, therefore, he withdrew himself from

the connexion, without coming to the least explanation or speaking

a syllable on the subject to any living soul; so that now their

correspondence is reduced to a slight salute with the hat, when they

chance to meet in any public place; an accident that rarely happens, for

their walks lie different ways. Mr Paunceford lives in a palace, feeds

upon dainties, is arrayed in sumptuous apparel, appears in all the pomp

of equipage, and passes his time among the nobles of the land. Serle

lodges in Stall-street, up two pair of stairs backwards, walks a-foot

in a Bath-rug, eats for twelve shillings a-week, and drinks water

as preservative against the gout and gravel--Mark the vicissitude.

Paunceford once resided in a garret; where he subsisted upon

sheep’s-trotters and cow-heel, from which commons he was translated to

the table of Serle, that ever abounded with good-chear; until want of

economy and retention reduced him to a slender annuity in his decline of

years, that scarce affords the bare necessaries of life.--Paunceford,

however, does him the honour to speak of him still, with uncommon

regard; and to declare what pleasure it would give him to contribute in

any shape to his convenience: ‘But you know (he never fails to add) he’s

a shy kind of a man--And then such a perfect philosopher, that he looks

upon all superfluities with the most sovereign contempt. Having given

you this sketch of squire Paunceford, I need not make any comment on his

character, but leave it at the mercy of your own reflection; from which

I dare say, it will meet with as little quarter as it has found with

Yours always, J. MELFORD BATH, May 10.

To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall.

DEAR MOLLY,

We are all upon the ving--Hey for London, girl!--Fecks! we have been

long enough here; for we’re all turned tipsy turvy--Mistress has

excarded Sir Ulic for kicking of Chowder; and I have sent O Frizzle

away, with a flea in his ear--I’ve shewn him how little I minded his

tinsy and his long tail--A fellor, who would think for to go, for to

offer, to take up with a dirty trollop under my nose--I ketched him in

the very feet, coming out of the housemaids garret.--But I have gi’en

the dirty slut a siserary. O Molly! the sarvants at Bath are devils

in garnet. They lite the candle at both ends--Here’s nothing but

ginketting, and wasting, and thieving and tricking, and trigging; and

then they are never content--They won’t suffer the ‘squire and mistress

to stay any longer; because they have been already above three weeks in

the house; and they look for a couple of ginneys a-piece at our going

away; and this is a parquisite they expect every month in the season;

being as how no family has a right to stay longer than four weeks in

the same lodgings; and so the cuck swears she will pin the dish-clout to

mistress’s tail; and the house-maid vows, she’ll put cowitch in master’s

bed, if so be he don’t discamp without furder ado--I don’t blame

them for making the most of their market, in the way of vails and

parquisites; and I defy the devil to say I am a tail-carrier, or ever

brought a poor sarvant into trouble--But then they oft to have some

conscience, in vronging those that be sarvants like themselves--For you

must no, Molly, I missed three-quarters of blond lace, and a remnant

of muslin, and my silver thimble; which was the gift of true love;

they were all in my workbasket, that I left upon the table in the

sarvants-hall, when mistresses bell rung; but if they had been under

lock and kay, ‘twould have been all the same; for there are double keys

to all the locks in Bath; and they say as how the very teeth an’t

safe in your head, if you sleep with your mouth open--And so says I to

myself, them things could not go without hands; and so I’ll watch

their waters: and so I did with a vitness; for then it was I found Bett

consarned with O Frizzle. And as the cuck had thrown her slush at me,

because I had taken part with Chowder, when he fit, with the turnspit,

I resolved to make a clear kitchen, and throw some of her fat into the

fire. I ketched the chare-woman going out with her load in the morning,

before she thought I was up, and brought her to mistress with her whole

cargo--Marry, what do’st think she had got in the name of God? Her

buckets were foaming full of our best bear, and her lap was stuffed with

a cold tongue, part of a buttock of beef, half a turkey, and a swinging

lump of butter, and the matter of ten mould kandles, that had scarce

ever been lit. The cuck brazened it out, and said it was her rite to

rummage the pantry; and she was ready for to go before the mare: that

he had been her potticary many years, and would never think of hurting a

poor sarvant, for giving away the scraps of the kitchen. I went another

way to work with madam Betty, because she had been saucy, and called me

skandelus names; and said O Frizzle couldn’t abide me, and twenty other

odorous falsehoods. I got a varrant from the mare, and her box being

sarched by the constable, my things came out sure enuff; besides a full

pound of vax candles, and a nite-cap of mistress, that I could sware to

on my cruperal oaf--O! then madam Mopstick came upon her merry

bones; and as the squire wouldn’t hare of a pursecution, she scaped a

skewering: but the longest day she has to live, she’ll remember your

Humble sarvant, W. JENKINS BATH, May 15.

If the hind should come again, before we be gone, pray send me the shift

and apron, with the vite gallow manky shoes; which you’ll find in my

pillowber--Sarvice to Saul--

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

You are in the right, dear Phillips; I don’t expect regular answers

to every letter--I know a college-life is too circumscribed to afford

materials for such quick returns of communication. For my part, I am

continually shifting the scene, and surrounded with new objects; some

of which are striking enough. I shall therefore conclude my journal for

your amusement; and, though, in all appearance, it will not treat of

very important or interesting particulars, it may prove, perhaps, not

altogether uninstructive and unentertaining.

The music and entertainments of Bath are over for this season; and

all our gay birds of passage have taken their flight to Bristolwell,

Tunbridge, Brighthelmstone, Scarborough, Harrowgate, &c. Not a soul is

seen in this place, but a few broken-winded parsons, waddling like so

many crows along the North Parade. There is always a great shew of

the clergy at Bath: none of your thin, puny, yellow, hectic figures,

exhausted with abstinence, and hardy study, labouring under the morbi

eruditorum, but great overgrown dignitaries and rectors, with rubicund

noses and gouty ancles, or broad bloated faces, dragging along great

swag bellies; the emblems of sloth and indigestion.

Now we are upon the subject of parsons, I must tell you a ludicrous

adventure, which was achieved the other day by Tom Eastgate, whom you

may remember on the foundation of Queen’s. He had been very assiduous

to pin himself upon George Prankley, who was a gentleman-commoner of

Christchurch, knowing the said Prankley was heir to a considerable

estate, and would have the advowson of a good living, the incumbent of

which was very old and infirm. He studied his passions, and flattered

them so effectually, as to become his companion and counsellor; and,

at last, obtained of him a promise of the presentation, when the living

should fall. Prankley, on his uncle’s death, quitted Oxford, and made

his first appearance in the fashionable world at London; from whence

he came lately to Bath, where he has been exhibiting himself among the

bucks and gamesters of the place. Eastgate followed him hither; but he

should not have quitted him for a moment, at his first emerging into

life. He ought to have known he was a fantastic, foolish, fickle

fellow, who would forget his college-attachments the moment they ceased

appealing to his senses. Tom met with a cold reception from his old

friend; and was, moreover, informed, that he had promised the living to

another man, who had a vote in the county, where he proposed to offer

himself a candidate at the next general election. He now remembered

nothing of Eastgate, but the freedoms he had used to take with him,

while Tom had quietly stood his butt, with an eye to the benefice; and

those freedoms he began to repeat in common-place sarcasms on his person

and his cloth, which he uttered in the public coffeehouse, for the

entertainment of the company. But he was egregiously mistaken in

giving his own wit credit for that tameness of Eastgate, which had been

entirely owing to prudential considerations. These being now removed,

he retorted his repartee with interest, and found no great difficulty in

turning the laugh upon the aggressor; who, losing his temper, called him

names, and asked, If he knew whom he talked to? After much altercation,

Prankley, shaking his cane, bid him hold his tongue, otherwise he could

dust his cassock for him. ‘I have no pretensions to such a valet (said

Tom) but if you should do me that office, and overheat yourself, I have

here a good oaken towel at your service.’

Prankley was equally incensed and confounded at this reply. After a

moment’s pause, he took him aside towards die window; and, pointing to

the clump of firs, on Clerken-down, asked in a whisper, if he had

spirit enough to meet him there, with a case of pistols, at six o’clock

tomorrow morning. Eastgate answered in the affirmative; and, with a

steady countenance, assured him, he would not fail to give him the

rendezvous at the hour he mentioned. So saying, he retired; and the

challenger stayed some time in manifest agitation. In the morning,

Eastgate, who knew his man, and had taken his resolution, went to

Prankley’s lodgings, and roused him by five o’clock.

The squire, in all probability, cursed his punctuality in his heart, but

he affected to talk big; and having prepared his artillery overnight,

they crossed the water at the end of the South Parade. In their progress

up the hill, Prankley often eyed the parson, in hopes of perceiving

some reluctance in his countenance; but as no such marks appeared, he

attempted to intimidate him by word of mouth. ‘If these flints do their

office (said he) I’ll do thy business in a few minutes.’ ‘I desire you

will do your best (replied the other); for my part, I come not here to

trifle. Our lives are in the hands of God; and one of us already totters

on the brink of eternity’ This remark seemed to make some impression

upon the squire, who changed countenance, and with a faultering accent

observed, ‘That it ill became a clergyman to be concerned in quarrels

and bloodshed’--‘Your insolence to me (said Eastgate) I should have bore

with patience, had not you cast the most infamous reflections upon my

order, the honour of which I think myself in duty bound to maintain,

even at the expence of my heart’s blood; and surely it can be no crime

to put out of the world a profligate wretch, without any sense of

principle, morality, or religion’--‘Thou may’st take away my life (cried

Prankley, in great perturbation) but don’t go to murder my character.

What! has’t got no conscience?’ ‘My conscience is perfectly quiet

(replied the other); and now, Sir, we are upon the spot--Take your

ground as near as you please; prime your pistol; and the Lord, of his

infinite mercy, have compassion upon your miserable soul!’

This ejaculation he pronounced in a loud solemn tone, with his hat off,

and his eyes lifted up; then drawing a large horse-pistol, he presented,

and put himself in a posture of action. Prankley took his distance, and

endeavoured to prime, but his hand shook with such violence, that he

found this operation impracticable--His antagonist, seeing how it was

with him, offered his assistance, and advanced for that purpose; when

the poor squire, exceedingly alarmed at what he had heard and seen,

desired the action might be deferred till next day, as he had not

settled his affairs. ‘I ha’n’t made my will (said he); my sisters are

not provided for; and I just now recollect an old promise, which my

conscience tells me I ought to perform--I’ll first convince thee,

that I’m not a wretch without principle, and then thou shalt have an

opportunity to take my life, which thou seem’st to thirst after so

eagerly.’

Eastgate understood the hint; and told him, that one day should break no

squares: adding, ‘God forbid that I should be the means of hindering you

from acting the part of an honest man, and a dutiful brother’--By virtue

of this cessation, they returned peaceably together. Prankley forthwith

made out the presentation of the living, and delivered it to Eastgate,

telling him at the same time, he had now settled his affairs, and was

ready to attend him to the Fir-grove; but Tom declared he could not

think of lifting his hand against the life of so great a benefactor--He

did more: when they next met at the coffeehouse, he asked pardon of Mr

Prankley, if in his passion he had said any thing to give him offence;

and the squire was so gracious as to forgive him with a cordial shake of

the hand, declaring, that he did not like to be at variance with an old

college companion--Next day, however, he left Bath abruptly; and then

Eastgate told me all these particulars, not a little pleased with the

effects of his own sagacity, by which he has secured a living worth

160l. per annum.

Of my uncle, I have nothing at present to say; but that we set out

tomorrow for London en famille. He and the ladies, with the maid and

Chowder in a coach; I and the man-servant a-horseback. The particulars

of our journey you shall have in my next, provided no accident happens

to prevent,

Yours ever, J. MELFORD BATH May 17.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR DICK,

I shall to-morrow set out for London, where I have bespoke lodgings, at

Mrs Norton’s in Golden-square. Although I am no admirer of Bath, I shall

leave it with regret; because I must part with some old friends,

whom, in all probability, I shall never see again. In the course of

coffeehouse conversation, I had often heard very extraordinary encomiums

passed on the performances of Mr T--, a gentleman residing in this

place, who paints landscapes for his amusement. As I have no great

confidence in the taste and judgment of coffeehouse connoisseurs, and

never received much pleasure from this branch of the art, those general

praises made no impression at all on my curiosity; but, at the request

of a particular friend, I went yesterday to see the pieces, which had

been so warmly commended--I must own I am no judge of painting, though

very fond of pictures. I don’t imagine that my senses would play me so

false, as to betray me into admiration of any thing that was very bad;

but, true it is, I have often overlooked capital beauties, in pieces of

extraordinary merit.--If I am not totally devoid of taste, however, this

young gentleman of Bath is the best landscape-painter now living: I was

struck with his performances in such a manner, as I had never been

by painting before. His trees not only have a richness of foliage

and warmth of colouring, which delights the view; but also a certain

magnificence in the disposition and spirit in the expression, which

I cannot describe. His management of the chiaro oscuro, or light and

shadow, especially gleams of sunshine, is altogether wonderful, both in

the contrivance and execution; and he is so happy in his perspective,

and marking his distances at sea, by a progressive series of ships,

vessels, capes, and promontories, that I could not help thinking, I had

a distant view of thirty leagues upon the back-ground of the picture. If

there is any taste for ingenuity left in a degenerate age, fast sinking

into barbarism, this artist, I apprehend, will make a capital figure, as

soon as his works are known.

Two days ago, I was favoured with a visit by Mr Fitzowen; who, with

great formality, solicited my vote and interest at the general election.

I ought not to have been shocked at the confidence of this man; though

it was remarkable, considering what had passed between him and me on a

former occasion--These visits are mere matter of form, which a candidate

makes to every elector; even to those who, he knows, are engaged in

the interest of his competitor, lest he should expose himself to the

imputation of pride, at a time when it is expected he should appear

humble. Indeed, I know nothing so abject as the behaviour of a

man canvassing for a seat in parliament--This mean prostration (to

borough-electors, especially) has, I imagine, contributed in a great

measure to raise that spirit of insolence among the vulgar; which, like

the devil, will be found very difficult to lay. Be that as it may, I was

in some confusion at the effrontery of Fitzowen; but I soon recollected

myself, and told him, I had not yet determined for whom I should give my

vote, nor whether I should give it for any.--The truth is, I look upon

both candidates in the same light; and should think myself a traitor to

the constitution of my country, if I voted for either. If every elector

would bring the same consideration home to his conscience, we should not

have such reason to exclaim against the venality of p--ts. But we all

are a pack of venal and corrupted rascals; so lost to all sense of

honesty, and all tenderness of character, that, in a little time, I am

fully persuaded, nothing will be infamous but virtue and public-spirit.

G. H--, who is really an enthusiast in patriotism, and represented the

capital in several successive parliaments, declared to me t’other day,

with the tears in his eyes, that he had lived above thirty years in the

city of London, and dealt in the way of commerce with all the citizens

of note in their turns; but that, as he should answer to God, he had

never, in the whole course of his life, found above three or four

whom he could call thoroughly honest: a declaration which was rather

mortifying than surprising to me; who have found so few men of worth

in the course of my acquaintance, that they serve only as exceptions;

which, in the grammarian’s phrase, confirm and prove a general canon--I

know you will say, G. H-- saw imperfectly through the mist of prejudice,

and I am rankled by the spleen--Perhaps, you are partly in the right;

for I have perceived that my opinion of mankind, like mercury in the

thermometer, rises and falls according to the variations of the weather.

Pray settle accompts with Barnes; take what money of mine is in his

hands, and give him acquittance. If you think Davis has stock or credit

enough to do justice to the farm, give him a discharge for the rent that

is due, this will animate his industry; for I know that nothing is so

discouraging to a farmer as the thoughts of being in arrears with his

landlord. He becomes dispirited, and neglects his labour; and so the

farm goes to wreck. Tabby has been clamouring for some days about the

lamb’s skin, which Williams, the hind, begged of me, when he was last at

Bath. Prithee take it back, paying the fellow the full value of it, that

I may have some peace in my own house; and let him keep his own counsel,

if he means to keep his place--O! I shall never presume to despise or

censure any poor man, for suffering himself to be henpecked; conscious

how I myself am obliged to truckle to a domestic demon; even though

(blessed be God) she is not yoked with me for life, in the matrimonial

waggon--She has quarrelled with the servants of the house about vails;

and such intolerable scolding ensued on both sides, that I have been

fain to appease the cook and chambermaid by stealth. Can’t you find some

poor gentleman of Wales, to take this precious commodity off the hands

of

Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE BATH, May 19.

To Dr LEWIS.

DOCTER LEWS,

Give me leaf to tell you, methinks you mought employ your talons better,

than to encourage servants to pillage their masters. I find by Gwyllim,

that Villiams has got my skin; for which he is an impotent rascal. He

has not only got my skin, but, moreover, my butter-milk to fatten his

pigs; and, I suppose, the next thing he gets, will be my pad to carry

his daughter to church and fair: Roger gets this, and Roger gets

that; but I’d have you to know, I won’t be rogered at this rate by any

ragmatical fellow in the kingdom--And I am surprised, docter Lews, you

would offer to put my affairs in composition with the refuge and skim

of the hearth. I have toiled and moyled to a good purpuss, for the

advantage of Matt’s family, if I can’t safe as much owl as will make me

an under petticoat. As for the butter-milk, ne’er a pig in the parish

shall thrust his snout in it, with my good-will. There’s a famous

physician at the Hot Well, that prescribes it to his patience, when

the case is consumptive; and the Scots and Irish have begun to drink it

already, in such quantities, that there is not a drop left for the

hogs in the whole neighbourhood of Bristol. I’ll have our butter-milk

barrelled up, and sent twice a-week to Aberginny, where it may be sold

for a half-penny the quart; and so Roger may carry his pigs to another

market--I hope, Docter, you will not go to put any more such phims in my

brother’s head, to the prejudice of my pockat; but rather give me some

raisins (which hitherto you have not done) to subscribe myself

Your humble servant, TAB. BRAMBLE BATH, May 19.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

Without waiting for your answer to my last, I proceed to give you an

account of our journey to London, which has not been wholly barren of

adventure. Tuesday last the ‘squire took his place in a hired coach and

four, accompanied by his sister and mine, and Mrs Tabby’s maid, Winifrid

Jenkins, whose province it was to support Chowder on a cushion in

her lap. I could scarce refrain from laughing when I looked into the

vehicle, and saw that animal sitting opposite to my uncle, like any

other passenger. The squire, ashamed of his situation, blushed to the

eyes: and, calling to the postilions to drive on, pulled the glass up in

my face. I, and his servant, John Thomas, attended them on horseback.

Nothing worth mentioning occurred, till we arrived on the edge of

Marlborough Downs. There one of the four horses fell, in going down

hill at a round trot; and the postilion behind, endeavouring to stop

the carriage, pulled it on one side into a deep rut, where it was fairly

overturned. I had rode on about two hundred yards before; but, hearing

a loud scream, galloped back and dismounted, to give what assistance

was in my power. When I looked into the coach, I could see nothing

distinctly, but the nether end of Jenkins, who was kicking her heels and

squalling with great vociferation. All of a sudden, my uncle thrust

up his bare pate, and bolted through the window, as nimble as a

grasshopper, having made use of poor Win’s posteriors as a step to rise

in his ascent--The man (who had likewise quitted his horse) dragged this

forlorn damsel, more dead than alive, through the same opening. Then

Mr Bramble, pulling the door off its hinges with a jerk, laid hold

on Liddy’s arm, and brought her to the light; very much frighted, but

little hurt. It fell to my share to deliver our aunt Tabitha, who had

lost her cap in the struggle, and being rather more than half frantic,

with rage and terror, was no bad representation of one of the sister

Furies that guard the gates of hell--She expressed no sort of concern

for her brother, who ran about in the cold, without his periwig, and

worked with the most astonishing agility, in helping to disentangle

the horses from the carriage: but she cried, in a tone of distraction,

‘Chowder! Chowder! my dear Chowder! my poor Chowder is certainly

killed!’

This was not the case--Chowder, after having tore my uncle’s leg in the

confusion of the fall, had retreated under the scat, and from thence the

footman drew him by the neck; for which good office, he bit his fingers

to the bone. The fellow, who is naturally surly, was so provoked at this

assault, that he saluted his ribs with a hearty kick, exclaiming, ‘Damn

the nasty son of a bitch, and them he belongs to!’ A benediction,

which was by no means lost upon the implacable virago his mistress--Her

brother, however, prevailed upon her to retire into a peasant’s house,

near the scene of action, where his head and hers were covered, and poor

Jenkins had a fit. Our next care was to apply some sticking plaister to

the wound in his leg, which exhibited the impression of Chowder’s teeth;

but he never opened his lips against the delinquent--Mrs Tabby, alarmed

at this scene, ‘You say nothing, Matt (cried she); but I know your

mind--I know the spite you have to that poor unfortunate animal! I know

you intend to take his life away!’ ‘You are mistaken, upon my honour!

(replied the squire, with a sarcastic smile) I should be incapable

of harbouring any such cruel design against an object so amiable and

inoffensive; even if he had not the happiness to be your favourite.’

John Thomas was not so delicate. The fellow, whether really alarmed for

his life, or instigated by the desire of revenge, came in, and bluntly

demanded, that the dog should be put to death; on the supposition, that

if ever he should run mad hereafter, he, who had been bit by him, would

be infected--My uncle calmly argued upon the absurdity of his opinion,

observing, that he himself was in the same predicament, and would

certainly take the precaution he proposed, if he was not sure he ran no

risque of infection. Nevertheless, Thomas continued obstinate; and, at

length declared, that if the dog was not shot immediately, he himself

would be his executioner--This declaration opened the flood-gates of

Tabby’s eloquence, which would have shamed the first-rate oratress of

Billingsgate. The footman retorted in the same stile; and the squire

dismissed him from his service, after having prevented me from giving

him a good horse-whipping for his insolence.

The coach being adjusted, another difficulty occurred--Mrs Tabitha

absolutely refused to enter it again, unless another driver could

be found to take the place of the postilion; who, she affirmed, had

overturned the carriage from malice aforethought--After much dispute,

the man resigned his place to a shabby country fellow, who undertook to

go as far as Marlborough, where they could be better provided; and at

that place we arrived about one O’clock, without farther impediment. Mrs

Bramble, however, found new matter of offence; which, indeed, she has a

particular genius for extracting at will from almost every incident in

life. We had scarce entered the room at Marlborough, where we stayed to

dine, when she exhibited a formal complaint against the poor fellow who

had superseded the postilion. She said he was such a beggarly rascal

that he had ne’er a shirt to his back, and had the impudence to shock

her sight by shewing his bare posteriors, for which act of indelicacy

he deserved to be set in the stocks. Mrs Winifred Jenkins confirmed the

assertion, with respect to his nakedness, observing, at the same time,

that he had a skin as fair as alabaster.

‘This is a heinous offence, indeed (cried my uncle) let us hear what the

fellow has to say in his own vindication.’ He was accordingly summoned,

and made his appearance, which was equally queer and pathetic. He seemed

to be about twenty years of age, of a middling size, with bandy legs,

stooping shoulders, high forehead, sandy locks, pinking eyes, flat nose,

and long chin--but his complexion was of a sickly yellow; his looks

denoted famine, and the rags that he wore could hardly conceal

what decency requires to be covered--My uncle, having surveyed him

attentively, said, with an ironical expression in his countenance, ‘An’t

you ashamed, fellow, to ride postilion without a shirt to cover your

backside from the view of the ladies in the coach?’ ‘Yes, I am, an

please your noble honour (answered the man) but necessity has no law,

as the saying is--And more than that, it was an accident. My breeches

cracked behind, after I had got into the saddle’ ‘You’re an impudent

varlet (cried Mrs Tabby) for presuming to ride before persons of fashion

without a shirt’--‘I am so, an please your worthy ladyship (said he)

but I am a poor Wiltshire lad--I ha’n’t a shirt in the world, that I can

call my own, nor a rag of clothes, and please your ladyship, but what

you see--I have no friend nor relation upon earth to help me out--I

have had the fever and ague these six months, and spent all I had in the

world upon doctors, and to keep soul and body together; and, saving

your ladyship’s good presence, I han’t broke bread these four and twenty

hours.’

Mrs Bramble, turning from him, said, she had never seen such a filthy

tatterdemalion, and bid him begone; observing, that he would fill the

room full of vermin--Her brother darted a significant glance at her, as

she retired with Liddy into another apartment, and then asked the man if

he was known to any person in Marlborough?--When he answered, that

the landlord of the inn had known him from his infancy; mine host was

immediately called, and being interrogated on the subject, declared that

the young fellow’s name was Humphry Clinker. That he had been a love

begotten babe, brought up in the work-house, and put out apprentice by

the parish to a country black-smith, who died before the boy’s time was

out: that he had for some time worked under his ostler, as a helper and

extra postilion, till he was taken ill of the ague, which disabled him

from getting his bread: that, having sold or pawned every thing he had

in the world for his cure and subsistence, he became so miserable and

shabby, that he disgraced the stable, and was dismissed; but that

he never heard any thing to the prejudice of his character in other

respects. ‘So that the fellow being sick and destitute (said my uncle)

you turned him out to die in the streets.’ ‘I pay the poor’s rate

(replied the other) and I have no right to maintain idle vagrants,

either in sickness or health; besides, such a miserable object would

have brought a discredit upon my house.’

‘You perceive (said the ‘squire, turning to me) our landlord is a

Christian of bowels--Who shall presume to censure the morals of the age,

when the very publicans exhibit such examples of humanity?--Heark ye,

Clinker, you are a most notorious offender--You stand convicted of

sickness, hunger, wretchedness, and want--But, as it does not belong to

me to punish criminals, I will only take upon me the task of giving you

a word of advice. Get a shirt with all convenient dispatch, that your

nakedness may not henceforward give offence to travelling gentlewomen,

especially maidens in years.’

So saying, he put a guinea into the hand of the poor fellow, who stood

staring at him in silence, with his mouth wide open, till the landlord

pushed him out of the room.

In the afternoon, as our aunt stept into the coach, she observed, with

some marks of satisfaction, that the postilion, who rode next to

her, was not a shabby wretch like the ragamuffin who had them into

Marlborough. Indeed, the difference was very conspicuous: this was a

smart fellow, with a narrow brimmed hat, with gold cording, a cut bob,

a decent blue jacket, leather-breaches, and a clean linen shirt, puffed

above the waist-band. When we arrived at the Castle, on Spin-hill, where

we lay, this new postilion was remarkably assiduous in bringing in the

loose parcels; and, at length, displayed the individual countenance

of Humphry Clinker, who had metamorphosed himself in this manner, by

relieving from pawn part of his own clothes, with the money he had

received from Mr Bramble.

Howsoever pleased the rest of the company were with such a favourable

change in the appearance of this poor creature it soured on the

stomach of Mrs Tabby, who had not yet digested the affront of his naked

skin--She tossed her nose in disdain, saying, she supposed her brother

had taken him into favour, because he had insulted her with his

obscenity: that a fool and his money were soon parted; but that if Matt

intended to take the fellow with him to London, she would not go a foot

further that way--My uncle said nothing with his tongue, though his

looks were sufficiently expressive; and next morning Clinker did not

appear, so that we proceeded without further altercation to Salthill,

where we proposed to dine--There, the first person that came to the

side of the coach, and began to adjust the footboard, was no other than

Humphry Clinker--When I handed out Mrs Bramble, she eyed him with a

furious look, and passed into the house--My uncle was embarrassed, and

asked him peevishly, what had brought him hither? The fellow said, his

honour had been so good to him, that he had not the heart to part with

him; that he would follow him to the world’s end, and serve him all the

days of his life, without fee or reward.

Mr Bramble did not know whether to chide or laugh at this

declaration--He foresaw much contradiction on the side of Tabby; and

on the other hand, he could not but be pleased with the gratitude of

Clinker, as well as with the simplicity of his character--‘Suppose I

was inclined to take you into my service (said he) what are your

qualifications? what are you good for?’ ‘An please your honour (answered

this original) I can read and write, and do the business of the stable

indifferent well--I can dress a horse, and shoe him, and bleed and rowel

him; and, as for the practice of sow-gelding, I won’t turn my back on

e’er a he in the county of Wilts--Then I can make hog’s puddings and

hob-nails, mend kettles and tin sauce-pans.’--Here uncle burst out

a-laughing; and inquired what other accomplishments he was master of--‘I

know something of single-stick, and psalmody (proceeded Clinker); I can

play upon the jew’s-harp, sing Black-ey’d Susan, Arthur-o’Bradley, and

divers other songs; I can dance a Welsh jig, and Nancy Dawson; wrestle a

fall with any lad of my inches, when I’m in heart; and, under correction

I can find a hare when your honour wants a bit of game.’ ‘Foregad! thou

are a complete fellow (cried my uncle, still laughing) I have a good

mind to take thee into my family--Prithee, go and try if thou can’st

make peace with my sister--Thou ha’st given her much offence by shewing

her thy naked tail.’

Clinker accordingly followed us into the room, cap in hand, where,

addressing himself to Mrs Tabitha, ‘May it please your ladyship’s

worship (cried he) to pardon and forgive my offences, and, with God’s

assistance, I shall take care that my tail shall never rise up in

judgment against me, to offend your ladyship again. Do, pray, good,

sweet, beautiful lady, take compassion on a poor sinner--God bless your

noble countenance; I am sure you are too handsome and generous to bear

malice--I will serve you on my bended knees, by night and by day, by

land and by water; and all for the love and pleasure of serving such an

excellent lady.’

This compliment and humiliation had some effect upon Tabby; but she made

no reply; and Clinker, taking silence for consent, gave his attendance

at dinner. The fellow’s natural aukwardness and the flutter of his

spirits were productive of repeated blunders in the course of his

attendance--At length, he spilt part of a custard upon her right

shoulder; and, starting back, trod upon Chowder, who set up a dismal

howl--Poor Humphry was so disconcerted at this double mistake, that he

dropt the china dish, which broke into a thousand pieces; then, falling

down upon his knees, remained in that posture gaping, with a most

ludicrous aspect of distress. Mrs Bramble flew to the dog, and,

snatching him in her arms, presented him to her brother saying, ‘This is

all a concerted scheme against this unfortunate animal, whose only crime

is its regard for me--Here it is, kill it at once, and then you’ll be

satisfied.’

Clinker, hearing these words, and taking them in the literal

acceptation, got up in some hurry, and seizing a knife from the

side-board, cried, ‘Not here, an please your ladyship--It will daub the

room--Give him to me, and I’ll carry him to the ditch by the roadside’

To this proposal he received no other answer, than a hearty box on the

ear, that made him stagger to the other side of the room. ‘What! (said

she to her brother) am I to be affronted by every mangy hound that you

pick up on the highway? I insist upon your sending this rascallion about

his business immediately’ ‘For God’s sake, sister, compose yourself

(said my uncle) and consider that the poor fellow is innocent of any

intention to give you offence’ ‘Innocent as the babe unborn’ (cried

Humphry). ‘I see it plainly (exclaimed this implacable maiden), he acts

by your direction; and you are resolved to support him in his impudence

This is a bad return for all the services I have done you; for nursing

you in your sickness, managing your family, and keeping you from ruining

yourself by your own imprudence--But now you shall part with that rascal

or me, upon the spot, without farther loss of time; and the world shall

see whether you have more regard for your own flesh and blood, or for a

beggarly foundling taken from the dunghill.’

Mr Bramble’s eyes began to glisten, and his teeth to chatter. ‘If stated

fairly (said he, raising his voice) the question is, whether I have

spirit to shake off an intolerable yoke, by one effort of resolution,

or meanness enough to do an act of cruelty and injustice, to gratify the

rancour of a capricious woman--Heark ye, Mrs Tabitha Bramble, I will

now propose an alternative in my turn. Either discard your four-footed

favourite, or give me leave to bid you eternally adieu--For I am

determined that he and I shall live no longer under the same roof;

and to dinner with what appetite you may’--Thunderstruck at this

declaration, she sat down in a corner; and, after a pause of some

minutes, ‘Sure I don’t understand you, Matt! (said she)’ ‘And yet I

spoke in plain English’ answered the ‘squire, with a peremptory look.

‘Sir (resumed this virago, effectually humbled), it is your prerogative

to command, and my duty to obey. I can’t dispose of the dog in this

place; but if you’ll allow him to go in the coach to London, I give you

my word, he shall never trouble you again.’

Her brother, entirely disarmed by this mild reply, declared, she could

ask him nothing in reason that he would refuse; adding, ‘I hope, sister,

you have never found me deficient in natural affection.’

Mrs Tabitha immediately rose, and, throwing her arms about his neck,

kissed him on the cheek: he returned her embrace with great emotion.

Liddy sobbed, Win. Jenkins cackled, Chowder capered, and Clinker skipped

about, rubbing his hands for joy of this reconciliation.

Concord being thus restored, we finished our meal with comfort; and

in the evening arrived at London, without having met with any other

adventure. My aunt seems to be much mended by the hint she received from

her brother. She has been graciously pleased to remove her displeasure

from Clinker, who is now retained as a footman; and in a day or two

will make his appearance in a new suit of livery; but as he is little

acquainted with London, we have taken an occasional valet, whom I intend

hereafter to hire as my own servant. We lodge in Goldensquare, at the

house of one Mrs Notion, a decent sort of a woman, who takes great pains

to make us all easy. My uncle proposes to make a circuit of all the

remarkable scenes of this metropolis, for the entertainment of his

pupils; but as both you and I are already acquainted with most of those

he will visit, and with some others he little dreams of, I shall only

communicate what will be in some measure new to your observation.

Remember me to our Jesuitical friends, and believe me ever,

Dear knight, Yours affectionately, J. MELFORD LONDON, May 24.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR DOCTOR,

London is literally new to me; new in its streets, houses, and even in

its situation; as the Irishman said, ‘London is now gone out of town.’

What I left open fields, producing hay and corn, I now find covered with

streets and squares, and palaces, and churches. I am credibly informed,

that in the space of seven years, eleven thousand new houses have been

built in one quarter of Westminster, exclusive of what is daily added to

other parts of this unwieldy metropolis. Pimlico and Knightsbridge are

now almost joined to Chelsea and Kensington; and if this infatuation

continues for half a century, I suppose the whole county of Middlesex

will be covered with brick.

It must be allowed, indeed, for the credit of the present age, that

London and Westminster are much better paved and lighted than they

were formerly. The new streets are spacious, regular, and airy; and

the houses generally convenient. The bridge at Blackfriars is a noble

monument of taste and public-spirit.--I wonder how they stumbled upon

a work of such magnificence and utility. But, notwithstanding these

improvements, the capital is become an overgrown monster; which, like

a dropsical head, will in time leave the body and extremities without

nourishment and support. The absurdity will appear in its full force,

when we consider that one sixth part of the natives of this whole

extensive kingdom is crowded within the bills of mortality. What

wonder that our villages are depopulated, and our farms in want of

day-labourers? The abolition of small farms is but one cause of the

decrease of population. Indeed, the incredible increase of horses and

black cattle, to answer the purposes of luxury, requires a prodigious

quantity of hay and grass, which are raised and managed without much

labour; but a number of hands will always be wanted for the different

branches of agriculture, whether the farms be large or small. The tide

of luxury has swept all the inhabitants from the open country--The

poorest squire, as well as the richest peer, must have his house in

town, and make a figure with an extraordinary number of domestics. The

plough-boys, cow-herds, and lower hinds are debauched and seduced by

the appearance and discourse of those coxcombs in livery, when they make

their summer excursions. They desert their dirt and drudgery, and swarm

up to London, in hopes of getting into service, where they can live

luxuriously and wear fine clothes, without being obliged to work; for

idleness is natural to man--Great numbers of these, being disappointed

in their expectation, become thieves and sharpers; and London being

an immense wilderness, in which there is neither watch nor ward of any

signification, nor any order or police, affords them lurking-places as

well as prey.

There are many causes that contribute to the daily increase of this

enormous mass; but they may be all resolved into the grand source of

luxury and corruption--About five and twenty years ago, very few, even

of the most opulent citizens of London, kept any equipage, or even any

servants in livery. Their tables produced nothing but plain boiled and

roasted, with a bottle of port and a tankard of beer. At present, every

trader in any degree of credit, every broker and attorney, maintains a

couple of footmen, a coachman, and postilion. He has his town-house,

and his country-house, his coach, and his post-chaise. His wife and

daughters appear in the richest stuffs, bespangled with diamonds. They

frequent the court, the opera, the theatre, and the masquerade. They

hold assemblies at their own houses: they make sumptuous entertainments,

and treat with the richest wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champagne.

The substantial tradesman, who wont to pass his evenings at the

ale-house for fourpence half-penny, now spends three shillings at the

tavern, while his wife keeps card-tables at home; she must likewise have

fine clothes, her chaise, or pad, with country lodgings, and go three

times a week to public diversions. Every clerk, apprentice, and even

waiter of tavern or coffeehouse, maintains a gelding by himself, or

in partnership, and assumes the air and apparel of a petit maitre--The

gayest places of public entertainment are filled with fashionable

figures; which, upon inquiry, will be found to be journeymen taylors,

serving-men, and abigails, disguised like their betters.

In short, there is no distinction or subordination left--The different

departments of life are jumbled together--The hod-carrier, the low

mechanic, the tapster, the publican, the shopkeeper, the pettifogger,

the citizen, and courtier, all tread upon the kibes of one another:

actuated by the demons of profligacy and licentiousness, they are

seen every where rambling, riding, rolling, rushing, justling, mixing,

bouncing, cracking, and crashing in one vile ferment of stupidity

and corruption--All is tumult and hurry; one would imagine they were

impelled by some disorder of the brain, that will not suffer them to

be at rest. The foot-passengers run along as if they were pursued by

bailiffs. The porters and chairmen trot with their burthens. People, who

keep their own equipages, drive through the streets at full speed. Even

citizens, physicians, and apothecaries, glide in their chariots like

lightening. The hackney-coachmen make their horses smoke, and the

pavement shakes under them; and I have actually seen a waggon pass

through Piccadilly at the hand-gallop. In a word, the whole nation seems

to be running out of their wits.

The diversions of the times are not ill suited to the genius of this

incongruous monster, called the public. Give it noise, confusion, glare,

and glitter; it has no idea of elegance and propriety--What are the

amusements of Ranelagh? One half of the company are following at the

other’s tails, in an eternal circle; like so many blind asses in an

olive-mill, where they can neither discourse, distinguish, nor be

distinguished; while the other half are drinking hot water, under the

denomination of tea, till nine or ten o’clock at night, to keep them

awake for the rest of the evening. As for the orchestra, the vocal music

especially, it is well for the performers that they cannot be heard

distinctly. Vauxhall is a composition of baubles, overcharged with

paltry ornaments, ill conceived, and poorly executed; without any unity

of design, or propriety of disposition. It is an unnatural assembly of

objects, fantastically illuminated in broken masses; seemingly contrived

to dazzle the eyes and divert the imagination of the vulgar--Here a

wooden lion, there a stone statue; in one place, a range of things like

coffeehouse boxes, covered a-top; in another, a parcel of ale-house

benches; in a third, a puppet-show representation of a tin cascade; in

a fourth, a gloomy cave of a circular form, like a sepulchral vault half

lighted; in a fifth, a scanty flip of grass-plat, that would not afford

pasture sufficient for an ass’s colt. The walks, which nature seems to

have intended for solitude, shade, and silence, are filled with crowds

of noisy people, sucking up the nocturnal rheums of an aguish climate;

and through these gay scenes, a few lamps glimmer like so many farthing

candles.

When I see a number of well dressed people, of both sexes, sitting

on the covered benches, exposed to the eyes of the mob; and, which is

worse, to the cold, raw, night-air, devouring sliced beef, and swilling

port, and punch, and cyder, I can’t help compassionating their temerity;

while I despise their want of taste and decorum; but, when they course

along those damp and gloomy walks, or crowd together upon the wet

gravel, without any other cover than the cope of Heaven, listening to

a song, which one half of them cannot possibly hear, how can I help

supposing they are actually possessed by a spirit, more absurd and

pernicious than any thing we meet with in the precincts of Bedlam? In

all probability, the proprietors of this, and other public gardens of

inferior note, in the skirts of the metropolis, are, in some shape,

connected with the faculty of physic, and the company of undertakers;

for, considering that eagerness in the pursuit of what is called

pleasure, which now predominates through every rank and denomination

of life, I am persuaded that more gouts, rheumatisms, catarrhs, and

consumptions are caught in these nocturnal pastimes, sub dio, than from

all the risques and accidents to which a life of toil and danger is

exposed.

These, and other observations, which I have made in this excursion, will

shorten my stay at London, and send me back with a double relish to my

solitude and mountains; but I shall return by a different route from

that which brought me to town. I have seen some old friends, who

constantly resided in this virtuous metropolis, but they are so

changed in manners and disposition, that we hardly know or care for one

another--In our journey from Bath, my sister Tabby provoked me into a

transport of passion; during which, like a man who has drank himself

pot-valiant, I talked to her in such a stile of authority and

resolution, as produced a most blessed effect. She and her dog have been

remarkably quiet and orderly ever since this expostulation. How long

this agreeable calm will last, Heaven above knows--I flatter myself, the

exercise of travelling has been of service to my health; a circumstance

which encourages me to-proceed in my projected expedition to the North.

But I must, in the mean time, for the benefit and amusement of my

pupils, explore the depths of this chaos; this misshapen and monstrous

capital, without head or tail, members or proportion.

Thomas was so insolent to my sister on the road, that I was obliged to

turn him off abruptly, betwixt Chippenham and Marlborough, where our

coach was overturned. The fellow was always sullen and selfish; but,

if he should return to the country, you may give him a character for

honesty and sobriety; and, provided he behaves with proper respect to

the family, let him have a couple of guineas in the name of

Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, May 20.

To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester.

MY DEAR LETTY,

Inexpressible was the pleasure I received from yours of the 25th, which

was last night put into my hands by Mrs Brentford, the milliner, from

Gloucester--I rejoice to hear that my worthy governess is in good

health, and, still more, that she no longer retains any displeasure

towards her poor Liddy. I am sorry you have lost the society of the

agreeable Miss Vaughn; but, I hope you won’t have cause much longer to

regret the departure of your school companions, as I make no doubt but

your parents will, in a little time, bring you into the world, where you

are so well qualified to make a distinguished figure. When that is

the case, I flatter myself you and I shall meet again, and be happy

together; and even improve the friendship which we contracted in our

tender years. This at least I can promise--It shall not be for the want

of my utmost endeavours, if our intimacy does not continue for life.

About five days ago we arrived in London, after an easy journey from

Bath; during which, however, we were overturned, and met with some other

little incidents, which, had like to have occasioned a misunderstanding

betwixt my uncle and aunt; but now, thank God, they are happily

reconciled: we live in harmony together, and every day make parties

to see the wonders of this vast metropolis, which, however, I cannot

pretend to describe; for I have not as yet seen one hundredth part of

its curiosities, and I am quite in a maze of admiration.

The cities of London and Westminster are spread out into an incredible

extent. The streets, squares, rows, lanes, and alleys, are innumerable.

Palaces, public buildings, and churches rise in every quarter;

and, among these last, St Paul’s appears with the most astonishing

pre-eminence. They say it is not so large as, St Peter’s at Rome; but,

for my own part, I can have no idea of any earthly temple more grand and

magnificent.

But even these superb objects are not so striking as the crowds of

people that swarm in the streets. I at first imagined that some

great assembly was just dismissed, and wanted to stand aside till the

multitude should pass; but this human tide continues to flow, without

interruption or abatement, from morn till night. Then there is such

an infinity of gay equipages, coaches, chariots, chaises, and other

carriages, continually rolling and shifting before your eyes, that

one’s head grows giddy looking at them; and the imagination is quite

confounded with splendour and variety. Nor is the prospect by water

less grand and astonishing than that by land: you see three stupendous

bridges, joining the opposite banks of a broad, deep, and rapid river;

so vast, so stately, so elegant, that they seem to be the work of the

giants; betwixt them, the whole surface of the Thames is covered with

small vessels, barges, boats, and wherries, passing to and fro; and

below the three bridges, such a prodigious forest of masts, for miles

together, that you would think all the ships in the universe were here

assembled. All that you read of wealth and grandeur in the Arabian

Nights’ Entertainment, and the Persian Tales, concerning Bagdad,

Diarbekir, Damascus, Ispahan, and Samarkand, is here realized.

Ranelagh looks like the inchanted palace of a genie, adorned with

the most exquisite performances of painting, carving, and gilding,

enlightened with a thousand golden lamps, that emulate the noon-day

sun; crowded with the great, the rich, the gay, the happy, and the fair;

glittering with cloth of gold and silver, lace, embroidery, and precious

stones. While these exulting sons and daughters of felicity tread this

round of pleasure, or regale in different parties, and separate lodges,

with fine imperial tea and other delicious refreshments, their ears are

entertained with the most ravishing delights of music, both instrumental

and vocal. There I heard the famous Tenducci, a thing from Italy--It

looks for all the world like a man, though they say it is not. The

voice, to be sure, is neither man’s nor woman’s; but it is more

melodious than either; and it warbled so divinely, that, while I

listened, I really thought myself in paradise.

At nine o’clock, in a charming moonlight evening, we embarked at

Ranelagh for Vauxhall, in a wherry so light and slender that we looked

like so many fairies sailing in a nutshell. My uncle, being apprehensive

of catching cold upon the water, went round in the coach, and my aunt

would have accompanied him, but he would not suffer me to go by water if

she went by land; and therefore she favoured us with her company, as she

perceived I had a curiosity to make this agreeable voyage--After all,

the vessel was sufficiently loaded; for, besides the waterman, there

was my brother Jery, and a friend of his, one Mr Barton, a country

gentleman, of a good fortune, who had dined at our house--The pleasure

of this little excursion was, however, damped, by my being sadly

frighted at our landing; where there was a terrible confusion of

wherries and a crowd of people bawling, and swearing, and quarrelling,

nay, a parcel of ugly-looking fellows came running into the water, and

laid hold of our boat with great violence, to pull it a-shore; nor would

they quit their hold till my brother struck one of them over the head

with his cane. But this flutter was fully recompensed by the pleasures

of Vauxhall; which I no sooner entered, than I was dazzled and

confounded with the variety of beauties that rushed all at once upon my

eye. Image to yourself, my dear Letty, a spacious garden, part laid out

in delightful walks, bounded with high hedges and trees, and paved with

gravel; part exhibiting a wonderful assemblage of the most picturesque

and striking objects’ pavilions, lodges, groves, grottoes, lawns,

temples and cascades; porticoes, colonades, and rotundos; adorned with

pillars, statues, and painting: the whole illuminated with an infinite

number of lamps, disposed in different figures of suns, stars, and

constellations; the place crowded with the gayest company, ranging

through those blissful shades, or supping in different lodges on cold

collations, enlivened with mirth, freedom, and good humour, and animated

by an excellent band of music. Among the vocal performers I had the

happiness to hear the celebrated Mrs--, whose voice was loud and shrill,

that it made my head ake through excess of pleasure.

In about half an hour after we arrived we were joined by my uncle, who

did not seem to relish the place. People of experience and infirmity, my

dear Letty, see with very different eyes from those that such as you and

I make use of--Our evening’s entertainment was interrupted by an unlucky

accident. In one of the remotest walks we were surprised with a sudden

shower, that set the whole company a-running, and drove us in heaps,

one upon another, into the rotunda; where my uncle, finding himself wet,

began to be very peevish and urgent to be gone. My brother went to look

for the coach, and found it with much difficulty; but as it could

not hold us all, Mr Barton stayed behind. It was some time before

the carriage could be brought up to the gate, in the confusion,

notwithstanding the utmost endeavours of our new footman, Humphry

Clinker, who lost his scratch periwig, and got a broken head in the

scuffle. The moment we were seated, my aunt pulled off my uncle’s shoes,

and carefully wrapped his poor feet in her capuchin; then she gave him

a mouth-ful of cordial, which she always keeps in her pocket, and his

clothes were shifted as soon as we arrived at lodgings; so that, blessed

be God, he escaped a severe cold, of which he was in great terror.

As for Mr Barton, I must tell you in confidence, he was a little

particular; but, perhaps, I mistake his complaisance; and I wish I may,

for his sake--You know the condition of my poor heart: which, in spite

of hard usage--And yet I ought not to complain: nor will I, till farther

information.

Besides Ranelagh and Vauxhall, I have been at Mrs Cornelys’ assembly,

which, for the rooms, the company, the dresses, and decorations,

surpasses all description; but as I have no great turn for card playing,

I have not yet entered thoroughly into the spirit of the place: indeed I

am still such a country hoyden, that I could hardly find patience to be

put in a condition to appear, yet, as I was not above six hours under

the hands of the hair-dresser, who stuffed my head with as much black

wool as would have made a quilted petticoat; and, after all, it was the

smallest head in the assembly, except my aunt’s--She, to be sure, was

so particular with her rumpt gown and petticoat, her scanty curls, her

lappethead, deep triple ruffles, and high stays, that every body looked

at her with surprise: some whispered, and some tittered; and lady

Griskin, by whom we were introduced, flatly told her, she was twenty

good years behind the fashion.

Lady Griskin is a person of fashion, to whom we have the honour to be

related. She keeps a small rout at her own house, never exceeding ten

or a dozen card-tables, but these are frequented by the best company in

town--She has been so obliging as to introduce my aunt and me to some of

her particular friends of quality, who treat us with the most familiar

good-humour: we have once dined with her, and she takes the trouble

to direct us in all our motions. I am so happy as to have gained her

goodwill to such a degree, that she sometimes adjusts my cap with her

own hands; and she has given me a kind invitation to stay with her all

the winter. This, however, has been cruelly declined by my uncle who

seems to be (I know not how) prejudiced against the good lady; for,

whenever my aunt happens to speak in her commendation, I observe that he

makes wry faces, though he says nothing--Perhaps, indeed, these grimaces

may be the effect of pain arising from the gout and rheumatism, with

which he is sadly distressed--To me, however, he is always good-natured

and generous, even beyond my wish. Since we came hither, he has made

me a present of a suit of clothes, with trimmings and laces, which cost

more money than I shall mention; and Jery, at his desire, has given me

my mother’s diamond crops, which are ordered to be set a-new; so that it

won’t be his fault if I do not glitter among the stars of the fourth or

fifth magnitude. I wish my weak head may not grow giddy in the midst

of all this gallantry and dissipation; though, as yet, I can safely

declare, I could gladly give up all these tumultuous pleasures, for

country solitude, and a happy retreat with those we love; among whom, my

dear Willis will always possess the first place in the breast of her

Ever affectionate, LYDIA MELFORD LONDON, May 31.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

I send you this letter, franked by our old friend Barton; who is as much

altered as it was possible for a man of his kidney to be. Instead of

the careless, indolent sloven we knew at Oxford, I found him a busy

talkative politician; a petit-maitre in his dress, and a ceremonious

courtier in his manners. He has not gall enough in his constitution

to be enflamed with the rancour of party, so as to deal in scurrilous

invectives; but, since he obtained a place, he is become a warm partizan

of the ministry, and sees every thing through such an exaggerating

medium, as to me, who am happily of no party, is altogether

incomprehensible--Without all doubt, the fumes of faction not only

disturb the faculty of reason, but also pervert the organs of sense; and

I would lay a hundred guineas to ten, that if Barton on one side, and

the most conscientious patriot in the opposition on the other, were to

draw, upon honour, the picture of the k[ing] or m[inisters], you and I,

who are still uninfected, and unbiased, would find both painters equally

distant from the truth. One thing, however, must be allowed for the

honour of Barton, he never breaks out into illiberal abuse, far less

endeavours, by infamous calumnies, to blast the moral character of any

individual on the other side.

Ever since we came hither, he has been remarkably assiduous in his

attention to our family; an attention, which, in a man of his indolence

and avocations, I should have thought altogether odd, and even

unnatural, had not I perceived that my sister Liddy had made some

impression upon his heart. I cannot say that I have any objection to

his trying his fortune in this pursuit: if an opulent estate and a great

flock of good-nature are sufficient qualifications in a husband, to

render the marriage-state happy for life, she may be happy with Barton;

but, I imagine, there is something else required to engage and secure

the affection of a woman of sense and delicacy: something which nature

has denied our friend--Liddy seems to be of the same opinion. When

he addresses himself to her in discourse, she seems to listen with

reluctance, and industriously avoids all particular communication; but

in proportion to her coyness, our aunt is coming. Mrs Tabitha goes more

than half way to meet his advances; she mistakes, or affects to mistake,

the meaning of his courtesy, which is rather formal and fulsome; she

returns his compliments with hyperbolical interest, she persecutes

him with her civilities at table, she appeals to him for ever in

conversation, she sighs, and flirts, and ogles, and by her hideous

affectation and impertinence, drives the poor courtier to the very

extremity of his complaisance; in short, she seems to have undertaken

the siege of Barton’s heart, and carries on her approaches in such a

desperate manner, that I don’t know whether he will not be obliged to

capitulate. In the mean time, his aversion to this inamorata struggling

with his acquired affability, and his natural fear of giving offence,

throws him into a kind of distress which is extremely ridiculous.

Two days ago, he persuaded my uncle and me to accompany him to St

James’s, where he undertook to make us acquainted with the persons

of all the great men in the kingdom; and, indeed, there was a great

assemblage of distinguished characters, for it was a high festival at

court. Our conductor performed his promise with great punctuality.

He pointed out almost every individual of both sexes, and generally

introduced them to our notice, with a flourish of panegyrick--Seeing the

king approach, ‘There comes (said he) the most amiable sovereign

that ever swayed the sceptre of England: the delicioe humani generis;

Augustus, in patronizing merit; Titus Vespasian in generosity; Trajan

in beneficence; and Marcus Aurelius in philosophy.’ ‘A very honest kind

hearted gentleman (added my uncle) he’s too good for the times. A king

of England should have a spice of the devil in his composition.’ Barton,

then turning to the duke of C[umberland], proceeded,--‘You know the

duke, that illustrious hero, who trode rebellion under his feet, and

secured us in possession of every thing we ought to hold dear, as

English men and Christians. Mark what an eye, how penetrating, yet

pacific! what dignity in his mien! what humanity in his aspect--Even

malice must own, that he is one of the greatest officers in

Christendom.’ ‘I think he is (said Mr Bramble) but who are these young

gentlemen that stand beside him?’ ‘Those! (cried our friend) those are

his royal nephews; the princes of the blood. Sweet young princes! the

sacred pledges of the Protestant line; so spirited, so sensible,

so princely’--‘Yes; very sensible! very spirited! (said my uncle,

interrupting him) but see the queen! ha, there’s the queen!--There’s the

queen! let me see--Let me see--Where are my glasses? ha! there’s meaning

in that eye--There’s sentiment--There’s expression--Well, Mr Barton,

what figure do you call next?’ The next person he pointed out, was the

favourite yearl; who stood solitary by one of the windows--‘Behold

yon northern star (said he) shorn of his beams’--‘What! the Caledonian

luminary, that lately blazed so bright in our hemisphere! methinks, at

present, it glimmers through a fog; like Saturn without his ring, bleak,

and dim, and distant--Ha, there’s the other great phenomenon, the grand

pensionary, that weathercock of patriotism that veers about in every

point of the political compass, and still feels the wind of popularity

in his tail. He too, like a portentous comet, has risen again above the

court-horizon; but how long he will continue to ascend, it is not easy

to foretell, considering his great eccentricity--Who are those two

satellites that attend his motions?’ When Barton told him their names,

‘To their characters (said Mr Bramble) I am no stranger. One of them,

without a drop of red blood in his veins, has a cold intoxicating vapour

in his head; and rancour enough in his heart to inoculate and affect

a whole nation. The other is (I hear) intended for a share in the

ad[ministratio]n, and the pensionary vouches for his being duly

qualified--The only instance I ever heard of his sagacity, was his

deserting his former patron, when he found him declining in power, and

in disgrace with the people. Without principle, talent, or intelligence,

he is ungracious as a hog, greedy as a vulture, and thievish as a

jackdaw; but, it must be owned, he is no hypocrite. He pretends to no

virtue, and takes no pains to disguise his character--His ministry

will be attended with one advantage, no man will be disappointed by his

breach of promise, as no mortal ever trusted to his word. I wonder how

lord--first discovered this happy genius, and for what purpose lord--has

now adopted him: but one would think, that as amber has a power to

attract dirt, and straws, and chaff, a minister is endued with the same

kind of faculty, to lick up every knave and blockhead in his way’--His

eulogium was interrupted by the arrival of the old duke of N--; who,

squeezing into the circle with a busy face of importance, thrust his

head into every countenance, as if he had been in search of somebody, to

whom he wanted to impart something of great consequence--My uncle, who

had been formerly known to him, bowed as he passed; and the duke seeing

himself saluted so respectfully by a well-dressed person, was not slow

in returning the courtesy--He even came up, and, taking him cordially by

the hand, ‘My dear friend, Mr A-- (said he) I am rejoiced to see you--

How long have you been come from abroad?--How did you leave our good

friends the Dutch? The king of Prussia don’t think of another war,

ah?--He’s a great king! a great conqueror! a very great conqueror! Your

Alexanders and Hannibals were nothing, at all to him, sir--Corporals!

drummers! dross! mere trash--Damned trash, heh?’--His grace being by

this time out of breath, my uncle took the opportunity to tell him he

had not been out of England, that his name was Bramble, and that he had

the honour to sit in the last parliament but one of the late king, as

representative for the borough of Dymkymraig. ‘Odso! (cried the duke) I

remember you perfectly well, my dear Mr Bramble--You was always a

good and loyal subject--a stanch friend to administration--I made your

brother an Irish bishop’--‘Pardon me, my lord (said the squire) I once

had a brother, but he was a captain in the army’--‘Ha! (said his

grace) he was so--He was, indeed! But who was the Bishop then! Bishop

Blackberry--Sure it was bishop Blackberry. Perhaps some relation of

yours’--‘Very likely, my lord (replied my uncle); the Blackberry is the

fruit of the Bramble--But, I believe, the bishop is not a berry of our

bush’--‘No more he is--No more he is, ha, ha, ha! (exclaimed the duke)

there you gave me a scratch, good Mr Bramble, ha, ha, ha!--Well,

I shall be glad to see you at Lincoln’s inn-fields--You know the

way--Times are altered. Though I have lost the power, I retain the

inclination--Your very humble servant, good Mr Blackberry’--So saying,

he shoved to another corner of the room. ‘What a fine old gentleman!

(cried Mr Barton) what spirits! what a memory! He never forgets an old

friend.’ ‘He does me too much honour (observed our squire) to rank me

among the number--Whilst I sat in parliament, I never voted with the

ministry but three times, when my conscience told me they were in the

right: however, if he still keeps levee, I will carry my nephew thither,

that he may see, and learn to avoid the scene; for, I think, an English

gentleman never appears to such disadvantage, as at the levee of a

minister--Of his grace I shall say nothing at present, but that for

thirty years he was the constant and common butt of ridicule and

execration. He was generally laughed at as an ape in politics, whose

office and influence served only to render his folly the more notorious;

and the opposition cursed him, as the indefatigable drudge of a

first-mover, who was justly stiled and stigmatized as the father of

corruption: but this ridiculous ape, this venal drudge, no sooner lost

the places he was so ill qualified to fill, and unfurled the banners of

faction, than he was metamorphosed into a pattern of public virtue; the

very people who reviled him before, now extolled him to the skies, as a

wise, experienced statesman, chief pillar of the Protestant succession,

and corner stone of English liberty. I should be glad to know how Mr

Barton reconciles these contradictions, without obliging us to resign

all title to the privilege of common sense.’ ‘My dear sir (answered

Barton) I don’t pretend to justify the extravagations of the multitude;

who, I suppose, were as wild in their former censure, as in the present

praise: but I shall be very glad to attend you on Thursday next to his

grace’s levee; where, I’m afraid, we shall not be crowded with company;

for, you know, there’s a wide difference between his present office of

president of the council, and his former post of first lord commissioner

of the treasury.’

This communicative friend having announced all the remarkable characters

of both sexes, that appeared at court, we resolved to adjourn, and

retired. At the foot of the stair-case, there was a crowd of lacqueys

and chairmen, and in the midst of them stood Humphry Clinker, exalted

upon a stool, with his hat in one hand, and a paper in the other, in

the act of holding forth to the people--Before we could inquire into the

meaning of this exhibition, he perceived his master, thrust the paper

into his pocket, descended from his elevation, bolted through the crowd,

and brought up the carriage to the gate.

My uncle said nothing till we were seated, when, after having looked at

me earnestly for some time, he burst out a-laughing, and asked if I knew

upon what subject Clinker was holding forth to the mob--‘If (said he)

the fellow is turned mountebank, I must turn him out of my service,

otherwise he’ll make Merry Andrews of us all’--I observed, that, in

all probability, he had studied medicine under his master, who was a

farrier.

At dinner, the squire asked him, if he had ever practised physic? ‘Yes,

and please your honour (said he) among brute beasts; but I never meddle

with rational creatures.’ ‘I know not whether you rank in that class the

audience you was haranguing in the court at St. James’s, but I should be

glad to know what kind of powders you was distributing; and whether you

had a good sale’--‘Sale, sir! (cried Clinker) I hope I shall never be

base enough to sell for gold and silver, what freely comes of God’s

grace. I distributed nothing, an like your honour, but a word of

advice to my fellows in servitude and sin.’ ‘Advice! concerning what?’

‘Concerning profane swearing, an please your honour; so horrid and

shocking, that it made my hair stand on end.’ ‘Nay, if thou can’st cure

them Of that disease, I shall think thee a wonderful doctor indeed’ ‘Why

not cure them, my good master? the hearts of those poor people are not

so stubborn as your honour seems to think--Make them first sensible

that you have nothing in view but their good, then they will listen with

patience, and easily be convinced of the sin and folly of a practice

that affords neither profit nor pleasure--At this remark, our uncle

changed colour, and looked round the company, conscious that his own

withers were not altogether unwrung. ‘But, Clinker (said he) if you

should have eloquence enough to persuade the vulgar to resign those

tropes and figures of rhetoric, there will be little or nothing left to

distinguish their conversation from that of their betters.’ ‘But then

your honour knows, their conversation will be void of offence; and, at

the day of judgment, there will be no distinction of persons.’

Humphry going down stairs to fetch up a bottle of wine, my uncle

congratulated his sister upon having such a reformer in the family; when

Mrs Tabitha declared, he was a sober civilized fellow; very respectful,

and very industrious; and, she believed, a good Christian into

the bargain. One would think, Clinker must really have some very

extraordinary talent, to ingratiate himself in this manner with a

virago of her character, so fortified against him with prejudice and

resentment; but the truth is, since the adventure of Salt-hill, Mrs

Tabby seems to be entirely changed. She has left off scolding the

servants, an exercise which was grown habitual, and even seemed

necessary to her constitution; and is become so indifferent to Chowder,

as to part with him in a present to lady Griskin, who proposes to bring

the breed of him into fashion. Her ladyship is the widow of Sir Timothy

Griskin, a distant relation of our family. She enjoys a jointure of five

hundred pounds a-year, and makes shift to spend three times that sum.

Her character before marriage was a little equivocal; but at present she

lives in the bon ton, keeps card-tables, gives private suppers to select

friends, and is visited by persons of the first fashion--She has been

remarkably civil to us all, and cultivates my uncle with the most

particular regard; but the more she strokes him, the more his bristles

seem to rise--To her compliments he makes very laconic and dry

returns--T’other day she sent us a pottle of fine strawberries, which

he did not receive without signs of disgust, muttering from the Aeneid,

timeo Danaos et Dona ferentes. She has twice called for Liddy, of a

forenoon, to take an airing in the coach; but Mrs Tabby was always so

alert (I suppose by his direction) that she never could have the niece

without her aunt’s company. I have endeavoured to sound Square-toes on

this subject; but he carefully avoids all explanation.

I have now, dear Phillips, filled a whole sheet, and if you have read it

to an end, I dare say, you are as tired as

Your humble servant, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 2.

To Dr LEWIS.

Yes, Doctor, I have seen the British Museum; which is a noble

collection, and even stupendous, if we consider it was made by a private

man, a physician, who was obliged to make his own fortune at the same

time: but great as the collection is, it would appear more striking if

it was arranged in one spacious saloon, instead of being divided into

different apartments, which it does not entirely fill--I could wish the

series of medals was connected, and the whole of the animal, vegetable,

and mineral kingdoms completed, by adding to each, at the public

expence, those articles that are wanting. It would likewise be a great

improvement, with respect to the library, if the deficiencies were made

up, by purchasing all the books of character that are not to be found

already in the collection--They might be classed in centuries, according

to the dates of their publication, and catalogues printed of them and

the manuscripts, for the information of those that want to consult, or

compile from such authorities. I could also wish, for the honour of the

nation, that there was a complete apparatus for a course of mathematics,

mechanics, and experimental philosophy; and a good salary settled upon

an able professor, who should give regular lectures on these subjects.

But this is all idle speculation, which will never be reduced to

practice--Considering the temper of the times, it is a wonder to see any

institution whatsoever established for the benefit of the Public. The

spirit of party is risen to a kind of phrenzy, unknown to former ages,

or rather degenerated to a total extinction of honesty and candour--You

know I have observed, for some time, that the public papers are become

the infamous vehicles of the most cruel and perfidious defamation: every

rancorous knave every desperate incendiary, that can afford to spend

half a crown or three shillings, may skulk behind the press of a

newsmonger, and have a stab at the first character in the kingdom,

without running the least hazard of detection or punishment.

I have made acquaintance with a Mr Barton, whom Jery knew at Oxford;

a good sort of a man, though most ridiculously warped in his political

principles; but his partiality is the less offensive, as it never

appears in the stile of scurrility and abuse. He is a member of

parliament, and a retainer to the court; and his whole conversation

turns upon the virtues and perfections of the ministers, who are his

patrons. T’other day, when he was bedaubing one of those worthies,

with the most fulsome praise, I told him I had seen the same nobleman

characterised very differently, in one of the daily-papers; indeed, so

stigmatized, that if one half of what was said of him was true, he

must be not only unfit to rule, but even unfit to live: that those

impeachments had been repeated again and again, with the addition

of fresh matter; and that as he had taken no steps towards his own

vindication, I began to think there was some foundation for the charge.

‘And pray, Sir (said Mr Barton), what steps would you have him take?

Suppose he should prosecute the publisher, who screens the anonymous

accuser, and bring him to the pillory for a libel; this is so far from

being counted a punishment, in terrorem, that it will probably make his

fortune. The multitude immediately take him into their protection, as a

martyr to the cause of defamation, which they have always espoused. They

pay his fine, they contribute to the increase of his stock, his shop is

crowded with customers, and the sale of his paper rises in proportion

to the scandal it contains. All this time the prosecutor is inveighed

against as a tyrant and oppressor, for having chosen to proceed by

the way of information, which is deemed a grievance; but if he lays an

action for damages, he must prove the damage, and I leave you to judge,

whether a gentleman’s character may not be brought into contempt, and

all his views in life blasted by calumny, without his being able to

specify the particulars of the damage he has sustained.

‘This spirit of defamation is a kind of heresy, that thrives under

persecution. The liberty of the press is a term of great efficacy; and

like that of the Protestant religion, has often served the purposes of

sedition--A minister, therefore, must arm himself with patience, and

bear those attacks without repining--Whatever mischief they may do in

other respects, they certainly contribute, in one particular, to the

advantages of government; for those defamatory articles have multiplied

papers in such a manner, and augmented their sale to such a degree, that

the duty upon stamps and advertisements has made a very considerable

addition to the revenue.’ Certain it is, a gentleman’s honour is a very

delicate subject to be handled by a jury, composed of men, who cannot

be supposed remarkable either for sentiment or impartiality--In such a

case, indeed, the defendant is tried, not only by his peers, but also

by his party; and I really think, that of all patriots, he is the most

resolute who exposes himself to such detraction, for the sake of his

country--If, from the ignorance or partiality of juries, a gentleman can

have no redress from law, for being defamed in a pamphlet or newspaper,

I know but one other method of proceeding against the publisher, which

is attended with some risque, but has been practised successfully, more

than once, in my remembrance--A regiment of horse was represented, in

one of the newspapers, as having misbehaved at Dettingen; a captain

of that regiment broke the publisher’s bones, telling him, at the same

time, if he went to law, he should certainly have the like salutation

from every officer of the corps. Governor--took the same satisfaction on

the ribs of an author, who traduced him by name in a periodical paper--I

know a low fellow of the same class, who, being turned out of Venice for

his impudence and scurrility, retired to Lugano, a town of the Grisons

(a free people, God wot) where he found a printing press, from whence he

squirted his filth at some respectable characters in the republic, which

he had been obliged to abandon. Some of these, finding him out of the

reach of legal chastisement, employed certain useful instruments, such

as may be found in all countries, to give him the bastinado; which,

being repeated more than once, effectually stopt the current of his

abuse.

As for the liberty of the press, like every other privilege, it must be

restrained within certain bounds; for if it is carried to a branch of

law, religion, and charity, it becomes one of the greatest evils that

ever annoyed the community. If the lowest ruffian may stab your good

name with impunity in England, will you be so uncandid as to exclaim

against Italy for the practice of common assassination? To what purpose

is our property secured, if our moral character is left defenceless?

People thus baited, grow desperate; and the despair of being able to

preserve one’s character, untainted by such vermin, produces a total

neglect of fame; so that one of the chief incitements to the practice of

virtue is effectually destroyed.

Mr Barton’s last consideration, respecting the stamp-duty, is equally

wise and laudable with another maxim which has been long adopted by our

financiers, namely, to connive at drunkenness, riot, and dissipation,

because they inhance the receipt of the excise; not reflecting, that in

providing this temporary convenience, they are destroying the morals,

health, and industry of the people--Notwithstanding my contempt for

those who flatter a minister, I think there is something still more

despicable in flattering a mob. When I see a man of birth, education,

and fortune, put himself on a level with the dregs of the people, mingle

with low mechanics, feed with them at the same board, and drink with

them in the same cup, flatter their prejudices, harangue in praise of

their virtues, expose themselves to the belchings of their beer, the

fumes of their tobacco, the grossness of their familiarity, and the

impertinence of their conversation, I cannot help despising him, as

a man guilty of the vilest prostitution, in order to effect a purpose

equally selfish and illiberal.

I should renounce politics the more willingly, if I could find other

topics of conversation discussed with more modesty and candour; but the

daemon of party seems to have usurped every department of life. Even

the world of literature and taste is divided into the most virulent

factions, which revile, decry, and traduce the works of one another.

Yesterday, I went to return an afternoon’s visit to a gentleman of my

acquaintance, at whose house I found one of the authors of the present

age, who has written with some success--As I had read one or two of his

performances, which gave me pleasure, I was glad of this opportunity

to know his person; but his discourse and deportment destroyed all the

impressions which his writings had made in his favour. He took upon him

to decide dogmatically upon every subject, without deigning to shew the

least cause for his differing from the general opinions of mankind,

as if it had been our duty to acquiesce in the ipse dixit of this new

Pythagoras. He rejudged the characters of all the principal authors, who

had died within a century of the present time; and, in this revision,

paid no sort of regard to the reputation they had acquired--Milton was

harsh and prosaic; Dryden, languid and verbose; Butler and Swift

without humour; Congreve, without wit; and Pope destitute of any sort of

poetical merit--As for his contemporaries, he could not bear to hear

one of them mentioned with any degree of applause--They were all dunces,

pedants, plagiaries, quacks, and impostors; and you could not name a

single performance, but what was tame, stupid, and insipid. It must be

owned, that this writer had nothing to charge his conscience with, on

the side of flattery; for I understand, he was never known to praise one

line that was written, even by those with whom he lived on terms of good

fellowship. This arrogance and presumption, in depreciating authors, for

whose reputation the company may be interested, is such an insult upon

the understanding, as I could not bear without wincing.

I desired to know his reasons for decrying some works, which had

afforded me uncommon pleasure; and, as demonstration did not seem to be

his talent, I dissented from his opinion with great freedom. Having been

spoiled by the deference and humility of his hearers, he did not bear

contradiction with much temper; and the dispute might have grown warm,

had it not been interrupted by the entrance of a rival bard, at whose

appearance he always quits the place--They are of different cabals, and

have been at open war these twenty years--If the other was dogmatical,

this genius was declamatory: he did not discourse, but harangue; and his

orations were equally tedious and turgid. He too pronounces ex cathedra

upon the characters of his contemporaries; and though he scruples not to

deal out praise, even lavishly, to the lowest reptile in Grubstreet who

will either flatter him in private, or mount the public rostrum as his

panegyrist, he damns all the other writers of the age, with the utmost

insolence and rancour--One is a blunderbuss, as being a native of

Ireland; another, a half-starved louse of literature, from the banks

of the Tweed; a third, an ass, because he enjoys a pension from the

government; a fourth, the very angel of dulness, because he succeeded in

a species of writing in which this Aristarchus had failed; a fifth, who

presumed to make strictures upon one of his performances, he holds as

a bug in criticism, whose stench is more offensive than his sting--In

short, except himself and his myrmidons, there is not a man of genius

or learning in the three kingdoms. As for the success of those, who have

written without the pale of this confederacy, he imputes it entirely to

want of taste in the public; not considering, that to the approbation of

that very tasteless public, he himself owes all the consequence he has

in life.

Those originals are not fit for conversation. If they would maintain the

advantage they have gained by their writing, they should never appear

but upon paper--For my part, I am shocked to find a man have sublime

ideas in his head, and nothing but illiberal sentiments in his

heart--The human soul will be generally found most defective in the

article of candour--I am inclined to think, no mind was ever wholly

exempt from envy; which, perhaps, may have been implanted, as an

instinct essential to our nature. I am afraid we sometimes palliate

this vice, under the spacious name of emulation. I have known a person

remarkably generous, humane, moderate, and apparently self-denying,

who could not hear even a friend commended, without betraying marks of

uneasiness; as if that commendation had implied an odious comparison

to his prejudice, and every wreath of praise added to the other’s

character, was a garland plucked from his own temples. This is a

malignant species of jealousy, of which I stand acquitted in my own

conscience.

Whether it is a vice, or an infirmity, I leave you to inquire.

There is another point, which I would much rather see determined;

whether the world was always as contemptible, as it appears to me at

present?--If the morals of mankind have not contracted an extraordinary

degree of depravity, within these thirty years, then must I be infected

with the common vice of old men, difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis

acti; or, which is more probable, the impetuous pursuits and avocations

of youth have formerly hindered me from observing those rotten parts of

human nature, which now appear so offensively to my observation.

We have been at court, and ‘change, and every where; and every where we

find food for spleen, and subject for ridicule--My new servant,

Humphry Clinker, turns out a great original: and Tabby is a changed

creature--She has parted with Chowder; and does nothing but smile, like

Malvolio in the play--I’ll be hanged if she is not acting a part which

is not natural to her disposition, for some purpose which I have not yet

discovered.

With respect to the characters of mankind, my curiosity is quite

satisfied: I have done with the science of men, and must now endeavour

to amuse myself with the novelty of things. I am, at present, by a

violent effort of the mind, forced from my natural bias; but this power

ceasing to act, I shall return to my solitude with redoubled velocity.

Every thing I see, and hear, and feel, in this great reservoir of folly,

knavery, and sophistication, contributes to inhance the value of a

country life, in the sentiments of

Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 2.

To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall.

DEAR MARY JONES,

Lady Griskin’s botler, Mr Crumb, having got ‘squire Barton to frank me

a kiver, I would not neglect to let you know how it is with me, and the

rest of the family.

I could not rite by John Thomas, for because he went away in a huff,

at a minutes’ warning. He and Chowder could not agree, and so they fitt

upon the road, and Chowder bitt his thumb, and he swore he would do him

a mischief, and he spoke saucy to mistress, whereby the squire turned

him off in gudgeon; and by God’s providence we picked up another

footman, called Umphry Klinker; a good sole as ever broke bread;

which shews that a scalded cat may prove a good mouser, and a hound be

staunch, thof he has got narro hare on his buttocks; but the proudest

nose may be bro’t to the grinestone, by sickness and misfortunes.

0 Molly! what shall I say of London? All the towns that ever I beheld

in my born-days, are no more than Welsh barrows and crumlecks to this

wonderful sitty! Even Bath itself is but a fillitch, in the naam of

God--One would think there’s no end of the streets, but the land’s end.

Then there’s such a power of people, going hurry skurry! Such a racket

of coxes! Such a noise, and haliballoo! So many strange sites to be

seen! O gracious! my poor Welsh brain has been spinning like a top ever

since I came hither! And I have seen the Park, and the paleass of Saint

Gimses, and the king’s and the queen’s magisterial pursing, and the

sweet young princes, and the hillyfents, and pye bald ass, and all the

rest of the royal family.

Last week I went with mistress to the Tower, to see the crowns and wild

beastis; and there was a monstracious lion, with teeth half a quarter

long; and a gentleman bid me not go near him, if I wasn’t a maid; being

as how he would roar, and tear, and play the dickens--Now I had no mind

to go near him; for I cannot abide such dangerous honeymils, not I--but,

mistress would go; and the beast kept such a roaring and bouncing,

that I tho’t he would have broke his cage and devoured us all; and the

gentleman tittered forsooth; but I’ll go to death upon it, I will,

that my lady is as good a firchin, as the child unborn; and, therefore,

either the gentleman told a fib, or the lion oft to be set in the

stocks for bearing false witness agin his neighbour; for the commandment

sayeth, Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.

I was afterwards of a party at Sadler’s-wells, where I saw such tumbling

and dancing upon ropes and wires, that I was frightened and ready to

go into a fit--I tho’t it was all inchantment; and, believing myself

bewitched, began for to cry--You knows as how the witches in Wales fly

upon broom-sticks: but here was flying without any broom-stick, or thing

in the varsal world, and firing of pistols in the air, and blowing of

trumpets, and swinging, and rolling of wheel-barrows upon a wire (God

bless us!) no thicker than a sewing-thread; that, to be sure, they must

deal with the devil!--A fine gentleman, with a pig’s-tail, and a golden

sord by his side, come to comfit me, and offered for to treat me with

a pint of wind; but I would not stay; and so, in going through the dark

passage, he began to shew his cloven futt, and went for to be rude: my

fellow-sarvant, Umphry Klinker, bid him be sivil, and he gave the young

man a dowse in the chops; but, I fackins, Mr Klinker wa’n’t long in

his debt--with a good oaken sapling he dusted his doublet, for all his

golden cheese toaster; and, fipping me under his arm, carried me huom, I

nose not how, being I was in such a flustration--But, thank God! I’m

now vaned from all such vanities; for what are all those rarities and

vagaries to the glory that shall be revealed hereafter? O Molly! let not

your poor heart be puffed up with vanity.

I had almost forgot to tell you, that I have had my hair cut and

pippered, and singed, and bolstered, and buckled, in the newest fashion,

by a French freezer--Parley vow Francey--Vee madmansell--I now carries

my head higher than arrow private gentlewoman of Vales. Last night,

coming huom from the meeting, I was taken by lamp-light for an iminent

poulterer’s daughter, a great beauty--But as I was saying, this is all

vanity and vexation of spirit--The pleasures of London are no better

than sower whey and stale cyder, when compared to the joys of the new

Gerusalem.

Dear Mary Jones! An please God when I return, I’ll bring you a new cap,

with a turkey-shell coom, and a pyehouse sermon, that was preached in

the Tabernacle; and I pray of all love, you will mind your vriting

and your spilling; for, craving your pardon, Molly, it made me suet

to disseyffer your last scrabble, which was delivered by the hind at

Bath--0, voman! voman! if thou had’st but the least consumption of what

pleasure we scullers have, when we can cunster the crabbidst buck off

hand, and spell the ethnitch vords without lucking at the primmer. As

for Mr Klinker, he is qualified to be a clerk to a parish--But I’ll say

no more--Remember me to Saul--poor sole! it goes to my hart to think

she don’t yet know her letters--But all in God’s good time--It shall go

hard, but I will bring her the A B C in gingerbread; and that, you nose,

will be learning to her taste.

Mistress says, we are going a long gurney to the North; but go where we

will, I shall ever be,

Dear Mary Jones, Yours with true infection WIN. JENKINS LONDON, June 3.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR WAT,

I mentioned in my last, my uncle’s design of going to the duke of N--‘s

levee; which design has been executed accordingly. His grace has been

so long accustomed to this kind of homage, that though the place he now

fills does not imply the tenth part of the influence, which he exerted

in his former office, he has given his friends to understand, that they

cannot oblige him in any thing more, than in contributing to support

the shadow of that power, which he no longer retains in substance; and

therefore he has still public days, on which they appear at his levee.

My uncle and I went thither with Mr Barton, who, being one of the duke’s

adherents, undertook to be our introducer--The room was pretty well

filled with people, in a great variety of dress; but there was no more

than one gown and cassock, though I was told his grace had, while he was

minister, preferred almost every individual that now filled the bench of

bishops in the house of lords; but in all probability, the gratitude of

the clergy is like their charity, which shuns the light--Mr Barton

was immediately accosted by a person well stricken in years, tall, and

raw-boned, with a hook-nose, and an arch leer, that indicated, at least,

as much cunning as sagacity. Our conductor saluted him, by the name of

captain C--, and afterwards informed us he was a man of shrewd parts,

whom the government occasionally employed in secret services. But I have

had the history of him more at large, from another quarter. He had been,

many years ago, concerned in fraudulent practices, as a merchant, in

France; and being convicted of some of them, was sent to the gallies,

from whence he was delivered by the interest of the late duke of Ormond,

to whom he had recommended himself in letter, as his name-sake and

relation--He was in the sequel, employed by our ministry as a spy;

and in the war of 1740, traversed all Spain, as well as France, in the

disguise of a capuchin, at the extreme hazard of his life, in as much as

the court of Madrid had actually got scent of him, and given orders to

apprehend him at St Sebastian’s, from whence he had fortunately retired

but a few hours before the order arrived. This and other hair-breadth

‘scapes he pleaded so effectually as a merit with the English ministry,

that they allowed him a comfortable pension, which he now enjoys in his

old age--He has still access to all the ministers, and is said to be

consulted by them on many subjects, as a man of uncommon understanding

and great experience--He is, in fact, a fellow of some parts, and

invincible assurance; and, in his discourse, he assumes such an air

of self-sufficiency, as may very well impose upon some of the shallow

politicians, who now labour at the helm of administration. But, if he is

not belied, this is not the only imposture of which he is guilty--They

say, he is at bottom not only a Roman-catholic, but really a priest; and

while he pretends to disclose to our state-pilots all the springs that

move the cabinet of Versailles, he is actually picking up intelligence

for the service of the French minister. Be that as it may, captain

C-- entered into conversation with us in the most familiar manner, and

treated the duke’s character without any ceremony--‘This wiseacre (said

he) is still a-bed; and, I think, the best thing he can do, is to sleep

on till Christmas; for, when he gets up, he does nothing but expose his

own folly.--Since Grenville was turned out, there has been no minister

in this nation worth the meal that whitened his peri-wig--They are so

ignorant, they scarce know a crab from a cauliflower; and then they

are such dunces, that there’s no making them comprehend the plainest

proposition--In the beginning of the war, this poor half-witted creature

told me, in a great fright, that thirty thousand French had marched

from Acadie to Cape Breton--“Where did they find transports? (said I)”

“Transports (cried he) I tell you they marched by land”--“By land to the

island of Cape Breton?” “What! is Cape Breton an island?” “Certainly.”

“Ha! are you sure of that?” When I pointed it out in the map, he

examined it earnestly with his spectacles; then, taking me in his arms,

“My dear C--! (cried he) you always bring us good news--Egad! I’ll go

directly, and tell the king that Cape Breton is an island.”’

He seemed disposed to entertain us with more anecdotes of this nature,

at the expense of his grace, when he was interrupted by the arrival

of the Algerine ambassador; a venerable Turk, with a long white beard,

attended by his dragoman, or interpreter, and another officer of his

household, who had got no stockings to his legs--Captain C-- immediately

spoke with an air of authority to a servant in waiting, bidding him go

and tell the duke to rise, as there was a great deal of company come,

and, among others, the ambassador from Algiers. Then, turning to

us, ‘This poor Turk (said he) notwithstanding his grey beard, is a

green-horn--He has been several years resident in London, and still is

ignorant of our political revolutions. This visit is intended for

the prime minister of England; but you’ll see how this wise duke will

receive it as a mark of attachment to his own person’--Certain it is,

the duke seemed eager to acknowledge the compliment--A door opened,

he suddenly bolted out; with a shaving-cloth under his chin, his

face frothed up to the eyes with soap lather; and running up to the

ambassador, grinned hideous in his face--‘My dear Mahomet! (said he) God

love your long beard, I hope the dey will make you a horsetail at the

next promotion, ha, ha, ha! Have but a moment’s patience, and I’ll send

to you in a twinkling,’--So saying, he retired into his den, leaving

the Turk in some confusion. After a short pause, however, he said

something to his interpreter, the meaning of which I had great

curiosity to know, as he turned up his eyes while he spoke, expressing

astonishment, mixed with devotion. We were gratified by means of the

communicative captain C--, who conversed with the dragoman, as an old

acquaintance. Ibrahim, the ambassador, who had mistaken his grace for

the minister’s fool, was no sooner undeceived by the interpreter, than

he exclaimed to this effect ‘Holy prophet! I don’t wonder that this

nation prospers, seeing it is governed by the counsel of ideots; a

series of men, whom all good mussulmen revere as the organs of immediate

inspiration!’ Ibrahim was favoured with a particular audience of short

duration; after which the duke conducted him to the door, and

then returned to diffuse his gracious looks among the crowd of his

worshippers.

As Mr Barton advanced to present me to his grace, it was my fortune to

attract his notice, before I was announced--He forthwith met me more

than half way, and, seizing me by the hand, ‘My dear Sir Francis! (cried

he) this is so kind--I vow to God! I am so obliged--Such attention to

a poor broken minister. Well--Pray when does your excellency set

sail?--For God’s sake have a care of your health, and eat stewed

prunes in the passage. Next to your own precious health, pray, my dear

excellency, take care of the Five Nations--Our good friends the Five

Nations. The Toryrories, the Maccolmacks, the Out-o’the-ways, the

Crickets, and the Kickshaws--Let ‘em have plenty of blankets, and

stinkubus, and wampum; and your excellency won’t fail to scour

the kettle, and boil the chain, and bury the tree, and plant the

hatchet--Ha, ha, ha!’ When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his usual

precipitation, Mr Barton gave him to understand, that I was neither Sir

Francis, nor St Francis, but simply Mr Melford, nephew to Mr Bramble;

who, stepping forward, made his bow at the same time. ‘Odso! no more it

is Sir Francis--(said this wise statesman) Mr Melford, I’m glad to

see you--I sent you an engineer to fortify your dock--Mr Bramble--your

servant, Mr Bramble--How d’ye, good Mr Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty

young fellow--Faith and troth, a very pretty fellow!--His father is

my old friend--How does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned

disorder, ha?’ ‘No, my lord (replied my uncle), all his troubles are

over--He has been dead these fifteen years.’ ‘Dead! how--Yes faith!

now I remember: he is dead sure enough--Well, and how--does the

young gentleman stand for Haverford West? or--a what d’ye. My dear Mr

Milfordhaven, I’ll do you all the service in my power I hope I have some

credit left’--My uncle then gave him to understand, that I was still a

minor; and that we had no intention to trouble him at present, for any

favour whatsoever--‘I came hither with my nephew (added he) to pay our

respects to your grace; and I may venture to say, that his views and

mine are at least as disinterested as those of any individual in this

assembly.’ ‘My dear Mr Brambleberry! you do me infinite honour--I shall

always rejoice to see you and your hopeful nephew, Mr Milfordhaven--My

credit, such as it is, you may command--I wish we had more friends of

your kidney.’

Then, turning to captain C--, ‘Ha, C--! (said he) what news, C--? How

does the world wag? ha!’ ‘The world wags much after the old fashion, my

lord (answered the captain): the politicians of London and Westminster

have begun again to wag their tongues against your grace; and your

short-lived popularity wags like a feather, which the next puff of

antiministerial calumny will blow away’--‘A pack of rascals (cried the

duke)--Tories, Jacobites, rebels; one half of them would wag their heels

at Tyburn, if they had their deserts’--So saying, he wheeled about;

and going round the levee, spoke to every individual, with the most

courteous familiarity; but he scarce ever opened his mouth without

making some blunder, in relation to the person or business of the party

with whom he conversed; so that he really looked like a comedian, hired

to burlesque the character of a minister--At length, a person of a very

prepossessing appearance coming in, his grace ran up, and, hugging him

in his arms, with the appellation of ‘My dear Ch--s!’ led him forthwith

into the inner apartment, or Sanctum Sanctorum of this political temple.

‘That (said captain C--) is my friend C-- T--, almost the only man of

parts who has any concern in the present administration--Indeed, he

would have no concern at all in the matter, if the ministry did not find

it absolutely necessary to make use of his talents upon some particular

occasions--As for the common business of the nation, it is carried on in

a constant routine by the clerks of the different offices, otherwise the

wheels of government would be wholly stopt amidst the abrupt succession

of ministers, every one more ignorant than his predecessor--I am

thinking what a fine hovel we should be in, if all the clerks of the

treasury, the secretaries, of the war-office, and the admiralty, should

take it in their heads to throw up their places in imitation of the

great pensioner--But, to return to C-- T--; he certainly knows more

than all the ministry and all the opposition, if their heads were laid

together, and talks like an angel on a vast variety of subjects. He

would really be a great man, if he had any consistency or stability of

character--Then, it must be owned, he wants courage, otherwise he would

never allow himself to be cowed by the great political bully, for whose

understanding he has justly a very great contempt. I have seen him as

much afraid of that overbearing Hector, as ever schoolboy was of his

pedagogue; and yet this Hector, I shrewdly suspect, is no more than a

craven at bottom--Besides this defect, C-- has another, which he is

at too little pains to hide--There’s no faith to be given to his

assertions, and no trust to be put in his promises--However, to give

the devil his due, he’s very good-natured; and even friendly, when close

urged in the way of solicitation--As for principle, that’s out of the

question--In a word, he is a wit and an orator, extremely entertaining,

and he shines very often at the expence even of those ministers to whom

he is a retainer. This is a mark of great imprudence, by which he has

made them all his enemies, whatever face they may put upon the matter;

and sooner or later he’ll have cause to wish he had been able to keep

his own counsel. I have several times cautioned him on this subject;

but ‘tis all preaching to the desert--His vanity runs away with his

discretion’--I could not help thinking the captain himself might have

been the better for some hints of the same nature--His panegyric,

excluding principle and veracity, puts me in mind of a contest I

once overheard, in the way of altercation, betwixt two apple-women

in Spring-garden--One of those viragos having hinted something to the

prejudice of the other’s moral character, her antagonist, setting her

hands in her sides, replied--‘Speak out, hussy--I scorn your malice--I

own I’m both a whore and a thief; and what more have you to say?--Damn

you, what more have you to say? baiting that, which all the world knows,

I challenge you to say black is the white of my eye’--We did not wait

for Mr T--‘s coming forth; but after captain C-- had characterised all

the originals in waiting, we adjourned to a coffeehouse, where we had

buttered muffins and tea to breakfast, the said captain still favouring

us with his company--Nay, my uncle was so diverted with his anecdotes,

that he asked him to dinner, and treated him with a fine turbot, to

which he did ample justice--That same evening I spent at the tavern with

some friends, one of whom let me into C--‘s character, which Mr Bramble

no sooner understood, than he expressed some concern for the connexion

he had made, and resolved to disengage himself from it without ceremony.

We are become members of the Society for the Encouragement of the Arts,

and have assisted at some of their deliberations, which were conducted

with equal spirit and sagacity--My uncle is extremely fond of the

institution, which will certainly be productive of great advantages to

the public, if, from its democratical form, it does not degenerate into

cabal and corruption--You are already acquainted with his aversion to

the influence of the multitude, which, he affirms, is incompatible with

excellence, and subversive of order--Indeed his detestation of the mob

has been heightened by fear, ever since he fainted in the room at Bath;

and this apprehension has prevented him from going to the Little Theatre

in the Hay-market, and other places of entertainment, to which, however,

I have had the honour to attend the ladies.

It grates old Square-toes to reflect, that it is not in his power to

enjoy even the most elegant diversions of the capital, without the

participation of the vulgar; for they now thrust themselves into all

assemblies, from a ridotto at St James’s, to a hop at Rotherhithe. I

have lately seen our old acquaintance Dick Ivy, who we imagined had died

of dram-drinking; but he is lately emerged from the Fleet, by means of

a pamphlet which he wrote and published against the government with some

success. The sale of this performance enabled him to appear in clean

linen, and he is now going about soliciting subscriptions for his Poems;

but his breeches are not yet in the most decent order.

Dick certainly deserves some countenance for his intrepidity and

perseverance--It is not in the power of disappointment, nor even of

damnation, to drive him to despair--After some unsuccessful essays in

the way of poetry, he commenced brandy-merchant, and I believe his

whole stock ran out through his own bowels; then he consorted with a

milk-woman, who kept a cellar in Petty France: but he could not make his

quarters good; he was dislodged and driven up stairs into the kennel by

a corporal in the second regiment of foot-guards--He was afterwards the

laureat of Blackfriars, from whence there was a natural transition to

the Fleet--As he had formerly miscarried in panegyric, he now turned his

thoughts to satire, and really seems to have some talent for abuse. If

he can hold out till the meeting of the parliament, and be prepared

for another charge, in all probability Dick will mount the pillory,

or obtain a pension, in either of which events his fortune will be

made--Mean while he has acquired some degree of consideration with the

respectable writers of the age; and as I have subscribed for his works,

he did me the favour t’other night to introduce me to a society of those

geniuses; but I found them exceedingly formal and reserved--They

seemed afraid and jealous of one another, and sat in a state of mutual

repulsion, like so many particles of vapour, each surrounded by its own

electrified atmosphere. Dick, who has more vivacity than judgment, tried

more than once to enliven the conversation; sometimes making an effort

at wit, sometimes letting off a pun, and sometimes discharging a

conundrum; nay, at length he started a dispute upon the hackneyed

comparison betwixt blank verse and rhyme, and the professors opened with

great clamour; but, instead of keeping to the subject, they launched

out into tedious dissertations on the poetry of the ancients; and one

of them, who had been a school-master, displayed his whole knowledge of

prosody, gleaned from Disputer and Ruddiman. At last, I ventured to say,

I did not see how the subject in question could be at all elucidated by

the practice of the ancients, who certainly had neither blank verse

nor rhyme in their poems, which were measured by feet, whereas ours are

reckoned by the number of syllables--This remark seemed to give umbrage

to the pedant, who forthwith involved himself in a cloud of Greek and

Latin quotations, which nobody attempted to dispel--A confused hum of

insipid observations and comments ensued; and, upon the whole, I never

passed a duller evening in my life--Yet, without all doubt, some of them

were men of learning, wit, and ingenuity. As they are afraid of making

free with one another, they should bring each his butt, or whet-stone,

along with him, for the entertainment of the company--My uncle says, he

never desires to meet with more than one wit at a time--One wit, like a

knuckle of ham in soup, gives a zest and flavour to the dish; but more

than one serves only to spoil the pottage--And now I’m afraid I have

given you an unconscionable mess, without any flavour at all; for which,

I suppose, you will bestow your benedictions upon

Your friend, and servant J. MELFORD LONDON, June 5

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR LEWIS

Your fable of the monkey and the pig, is what the Italians call ben

trovata: but I shall not repeat it to my apothecary, who is a proud

Scotchman, very thin skinned, and, for aught I know, may have his degree

in his pocket--A right Scotchman has always two strings to his bow, and

is in utrumque paratus--Certain it is, I have not ‘scaped a scouring;

but, I believe, by means of that scouring, I have ‘scaped something

worse, perhaps a tedious fit of the gout or rheumatism; for my appetite

began to flag, and I had certain croakings in the bowels, which boded me

no good--Nay, I am not yet quite free of these remembrances, which warn

me to be gone from this centre of infection--

What temptation can a man of my turn and temperament have, to live in

a place where every corner teems with fresh objects of detestation

and disgust? What kind of taste and organs must those people have,

who really prefer the adulterate enjoyments of the town to the genuine

pleasures of a country retreat? Most people, I know, are originally

seduced by vanity, ambition, and childish curiosity; which cannot be

gratified, but in the busy haunts of men: but, in the course of this

gratification, their very organs of sense are perverted, and they become

habitually lost to every relish of what is genuine and excellent in its

own nature.

Shall I state the difference between my town grievances, and my country

comforts? At Brambleton-hall, I have elbow-room within doors, and

breathe a clear, elastic, salutary air--I enjoy refreshing sleep, which

is never disturbed by horrid noise, nor interrupted, but in a-morning,

by the sweet twitter of the martlet at my window--I drink the virgin

lymph, pure and chrystalline as it gushes from the rock, or the

sparkling beveridge, home-brewed from malt of my own making; or I

indulge with cyder, which my own orchard affords; or with claret of

the best growth, imported for my own use, by a correspondent on whose

integrity I can depend; my bread is sweet and nourishing, made from my

own wheat, ground in my own mill, and baked in my own oven; my table

is, in a great measure, furnished from my own ground; my five-year old

mutton, fed on the fragrant herbage of the mountains, that might vie

with venison in juice and flavour; my delicious veal, fattened with

nothing but the mother’s milk, that fills the dish with gravy; my

poultry from the barn-door, that never knew confinement, but when they

were at roost; my rabbits panting from the warren; my game fresh from

the moors; my trout and salmon struggling from the stream; oysters from

their native banks; and herrings, with other sea fish, I can eat in

four hours after they are taken--My sallads, roots, and potherbs, my own

garden yields in plenty and perfection; the produce of the natural

soil, prepared by moderate cultivation. The same soil affords all the

different fruits which England may call her own, so that my dessert is

every day fresh-gathered from the tree; my dairy flows with nectarious

tildes of milk and cream, from whence we derive abundance of excellent

butter, curds, and cheese; and the refuse fattens my pigs, that are

destined for hams and bacon--I go to bed betimes, and rise with the

sun--I make shift to pass the hours without weariness or regret, and

am not destitute of amusements within doors, when the weather will not

permit me to go abroad--I read, and chat, and play at billiards, cards

or back-gammon--Without doors, I superintend my farm, and execute

plans of improvements, the effects of which I enjoy with unspeakable

delight--Nor do I take less pleasure in seeing my tenants thrive under

my auspices, and the poor live comfortably by the employment which I

provide--You know I have one or two sensible friends, to whom I can open

all my heart; a blessing which, perhaps, I might have sought in vain

among the crowded scenes of life: there are a few others of more humble

parts, whom I esteem for their integrity; and their conversation I find

inoffensive, though not very entertaining. Finally, I live in the midst

of honest men, and trusty dependents, who, I flatter myself, have a

disinterested attachment to my person. You, yourself, my dear Doctor,

can vouch for the truth of these assertions.

Now, mark the contrast at London--I am pent up in frowzy lodgings, where

there is not room enough to swing a cat; and I breathe the steams

of endless putrefaction; and these would, undoubtedly, produce a

pestilence, if they were not qualified by the gross acid of sea-coal,

which is itself a pernicious nuisance to lungs of any delicacy of

texture: but even this boasted corrector cannot prevent those languid,

sallow looks, that distinguish the inhabitants of London from those

ruddy swains that lead a country-life--I go to bed after midnight, jaded

and restless from the dissipations of the day--I start every hour from

my sleep, at the horrid noise of the watchmen bawling the hour through

every street, and thundering at every door; a set of useless fellows,

who serve no other purpose but that of disturbing the repose of the

inhabitants; and by five o’clock I start out of bed, in consequence

of the still more dreadful alarm made by the country carts, and noisy

rustics bellowing green pease under my window. If I would drink water,

I must quaff the maukish contents of an open aqueduct, exposed to all

manner of defilement; or swallow that which comes from the river

Thames, impregnated with all the filth of London and Westminster--Human

excrement is the least offensive part of the concrete, which is

composed of all the drugs, minerals, and poisons, used in mechanics and

manufacture, enriched with the putrefying carcasses of beasts and men;

and mixed with the scourings of all the wash-tubs, kennels, and common

sewers, within the bills of mortality.

This is the agreeable potation, extolled by the Londoners, as the finest

water in the universe--As to the intoxicating potion, sold for wine, it

is a vile, unpalatable, and pernicious sophistication, balderdashed with

cyder, corn-spirit, and the juice of sloes. In an action at law, laid

against a carman for having staved a cask of port, it appeared from the

evidence of the cooper, that there were not above five gallons of real

wine in the whole pipe, which held above a hundred, and even that had

been brewed and adulterated by the merchant at Oporto. The bread I

eat in London, is a deleterious paste, mixed up with chalk, alum, and

bone-ashes; insipid to the taste, and destructive to the constitution.

The good people are not ignorant of this adulteration--but they prefer

it to wholesome bread, because it is whiter than the meal of corn: thus

they sacrifice their taste and their health, and the lives of their

tender infants, to a most absurd gratification of a mis-judging eye; and

the miller, or the baker, is obliged to poison them and their families,

in order to live by his profession. The same monstrous depravity appears

in their veal, which is bleached by repeated bleedings, and other

villainous arts, till there is not a drop of juice left in the body,

and the poor animal is paralytic before it dies; so void of all taste,

nourishment, and savour, that a man might dine as comfortably on a white

fricassee of kid-skin gloves; or chip hats from Leghorn.

As they have discharged the natural colour from their bread, their

butchers-meat, and poultry, their cutlets, ragouts, fricassees and

sauces of all kinds; so they insist upon having the complexion of their

potherbs mended, even at the hazard of their lives. Perhaps, you will

hardly believe they can be so mad as to boil their greens with brass

halfpence, in order to improve their colour; and yet nothing is more

true--Indeed, without this improvement in the colour, they have no

personal merit. They are produced in an artificial soil, and taste

of nothing but the dunghills, from whence they spring. My cabbage,

cauliflower, and ‘sparagus in the country, are as much superior in

flavour to those that are sold in Covent-garden, as my heath-mutton is

to that of St James’s-market; which in fact, is neither lamb nor mutton,

but something betwixt the two, gorged in the rank fens of Lincoln and

Essex, pale, coarse, and frowzy--As for the pork, it is an abominable

carnivorous animal, fed with horse-flesh and distillers’ grains; and

the poultry is all rotten, in consequence of a fever, occasioned by

the infamous practice of sewing up the gut, that they may be the sooner

fattened in coops, in consequence of this cruel retention.

Of the fish, I need say nothing in this hot weather, but that it comes

sixty, seventy, fourscore, and a hundred miles by land-carriage; a

circumstance sufficient without any comment, to turn a Dutchman’s

stomach, even if his nose was not saluted in every alley with the sweet

flavour of fresh mackarel, selling by retail. This is not the season for

oysters; nevertheless, it may not be amiss to mention, that the right

Colchester are kept in slime-pits, occasionally overflowed by the sea;

and that the green colour, so much admired by the voluptuaries of this

metropolis, is occasioned by the vitriolic scum, which rises on the

surface of the stagnant and stinking water--Our rabbits are bred and

fed in the poulterer’s cellar, where they have neither air nor exercise,

consequently they must be firm in flesh, and delicious in flavour; and

there is no game to be had for love or money.

It must be owned, the Covent-garden affords some good fruit; which,

however, is always engrossed by a few individuals of overgrown fortune,

at an exorbitant price; so that little else than the refuse of the

market falls to the share of the community; and that is distributed

by such filthy hands, as I cannot look at without loathing. It was but

yesterday that I saw a dirty barrow-bunter in the street, cleaning her

dusty fruit with her own spittle; and, who knows but some fine lady

of St James’s parish might admit into her delicate mouth those very

cherries, which had been rolled and moistened between the filthy, and,

perhaps, ulcerated chops of a St Giles’s huckster--I need not dwell upon

the pallid, contaminated mash, which they call strawberries; soiled and

tossed by greasy paws through twenty baskets crusted with dirt; and then

presented with the worst milk, thickened with the worst flour, into a

bad likeness of cream: but the milk itself should not pass unanalysed,

the produce of faded cabbage-leaves and sour draff, lowered with hot

water, frothed with bruised snails, carried through the streets in open

pails, exposed to foul rinsings, discharged from doors and windows,

spittle, snot, and tobacco-quids from foot passengers, overflowings from

mud carts, spatterings from coach wheels, dirt and trash chucked into it

by roguish boys for the joke’s sake, the spewings of infants, who have

slabbered in the tin-measure, which is thrown back in that condition

among the milk, for the benefit of the next customer; and, finally,

the vermin that drops from the rags of the nasty drab that vends this

precious mixture, under the respectable denomination of milk-maid.

I shall conclude this catalogue of London dainties, with that

table-beer, guiltless of hops and malt, vapid and nauseous; much fitter

to facilitate the operation of a vomit, than to quench thirst and

promote digestion; the tallowy rancid mass, called butter, manufactured

with candle grease and kitchen stuff; and their fresh eggs, imported

from France and Scotland.--Now, all these enormities might be remedied

with a very little attention to the article of police, or civil

regulation; but the wise patriots of London have taken it into their

heads, that all regulation is inconsistent with liberty; and that every

man ought to live in his own way, without restraint--Nay, as there is

not sense enough left among them, to be discomposed by the nuisance I

have mentioned, they may, for aught I care, wallow in the mire of their

own pollution.

A companionable man will, undoubtedly put up with many inconveniences

for the sake of enjoying agreeable society. A facetious friend of mine

used to say, the wine could not be bad, where the company was agreeable;

a maxim which, however, ought to be taken cum grano salis: but what

is the society of London, that I should be tempted, for its sake, to

mortify my senses, and compound with such uncleanness as my soul abhors?

All the people I see, are too much engrossed by schemes of interest or

ambition, to have any room left for sentiment or friendship. Even in

some of my old acquaintance, those schemes and pursuits have obliterated

all traces of our former connexion--Conversation is reduced to party

disputes, and illiberal altercation--Social commerce, to formal visits

and card-playing--If you pick up a diverting original by accident, it

may be dangerous to amuse yourself with his oddities--He is generally a

tartar at bottom; a sharper, a spy, or a lunatic. Every person you deal

with endeavours to overreach you in the way of business; you are preyed

upon by idle mendicants, who beg in the phrase of borrowing, and live

upon the spoils of the stranger--Your tradesmen are without conscience,

your friends without affection, and your dependents without fidelity.--

My letter would swell into a treatise, were I to particularize every

cause of offence that fills up the measure of my aversion to this, and

every other crowded city--Thank Heaven! I am not so far sucked into

the vortex, but that I can disengage myself without any great effort of

philosophy--From this wild uproar of knavery, folly, and impertinence, I

shall fly with double relish to the serenity of retirement, the cordial

effusions of unreserved friendship, the hospitality and protection

of the rural gods; in a word, the jucunda oblivia Vitae, which Horace

himself had not taste enough to enjoy.--

I have agreed for a good travelling-coach and four, at a guinea a day,

for three months certain; and next week we intend to begin our

journey to the North, hoping still to be with you by the latter end of

October--I shall continue to write from every stage where we make any

considerable halt, as often as anything occurs, which I think can

afford you the least amusement. In the mean time, I must beg you will

superintend the oeconomy of Barns, with respect to my hay and corn

harvests; assured that my ground produces nothing but what you may

freely call your own--On any other terms I should be ashamed to

subscribe myself

Your unvariable friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 8.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

In my last, I mentioned my having spent an evening with a society of

authors, who seemed to be jealous and afraid of one another. My uncle

was not at all surprised to hear me say I was disappointed in their

conversation. ‘A man may be very entertaining and instructive upon paper

(said he), and exceedingly dull in common discourse. I have observed,

that those who shine most in private company, are but secondary stars

in the constellation of genius--A small stock of ideas is more easily

managed, and sooner displayed, than a great quantity crowded together.

There is very seldom any thing extraordinary in the appearance and

address of a good writer; whereas a dull author generally distinguishes

himself by some oddity or extravagance. For this reason, I fancy, that

an assembly of Grubs must be very diverting.’

My curiosity being excited by this hint, I consulted my friend Dick Ivy,

who undertook to gratify it the very next day, which was Sunday last.

He carried me to dine with S--, whom you and I have long known by his

writings.--He lives in the skirts of the town, and every Sunday his

house is opened to all unfortunate brothers of the quill, whom he treats

with beef, pudding, and potatoes, port, punch, and Calvert’s entire butt

beer. He has fixed upon the first day of the week for the exercise of

his hospitality, because some of his guests could not enjoy it on any

other, for reasons that I need not explain. I was civilly received in

a plain, yet decent habitation, which opened backwards into a very

pleasant garden, kept in excellent order; and, indeed, I saw none of the

outward signs of authorship, either in the house or the landlord, who

is one of those few writers of the age that stand upon their own

foundation, without patronage, and above dependence. If there was

nothing characteristic in the entertainer, the company made ample amends

for his want of singularity.

At two in the afternoon, I found myself one of ten messmates seated at

table; and, I question, if the whole kingdom could produce such another

assemblage of originals. Among their peculiarities, I do not mention

those of dress, which may be purely accidental. What struck me were

oddities originally produced by affectation, and afterwards confirmed

by habit. One of them wore spectacles at dinner, and another his hat

flapped; though (as Ivy told me) the first was noted for having a

seaman’s eye, when a bailiff was in the wind; and the other was never

known to labour under any weakness or defect of vision, except about

five years ago, when he was complimented with a couple of black eyes by

a player, with whom he had quarrelled in his drink. A third wore a laced

stocking, and made use of crutches, because, once in his life, he had

been laid up with a broken leg, though no man could leap over a stick

with more agility. A fourth had contracted such an antipathy to the

country, that he insisted upon sitting with his back towards the window

that looked into the garden, and when a dish of cauliflower was set upon

the table, he snuffed up volatile salts to keep him from fainting; yet

this delicate person was the son of a cottager, born under a hedge,

and had many years run wild among asses on a common. A fifth affected

distraction. When spoke to, he always answered from the purpose

sometimes he suddenly started up, and rapped out a dreadful oath

sometimes he burst out a-laughing--then he folded his arms, and sighed

and then, he hissed like fifty serpents.

At first I really thought he was mad, and, as he sat near me, began

to be under some apprehensions for my own safety, when our landlord,

perceiving me alarmed, assured me aloud that I had nothing to fear. ‘The

gentleman (said he) is trying to act a part for which he is by no means

qualified--if he had all the inclination in the world, it is not in his

power to be mad. His spirits are too flat to be kindled into frenzy.’

‘'Tis no bad p-p-puff, however (observed a person in a tarnished

laced coat): aff-ffected in-madness w-will p-pass for w-wit w-with

nine-ninet-teen out of t-twenty.’--‘And affected stuttering for humour:

replied our landlord, tho’, God knows, there is an affinity betwixt

them.’ It seems, this wag, after having made some abortive attempts

in plain speaking, had recourse to this defect, by means of which he

frequently extorted the laugh of the company, without the least expence

of genius; and that imperfection, which he had at first counterfeited,

was now become so habitual, that he could not lay it aside.

A certain winking genius, who wore yellow gloves at dinner, had, on his

first introduction, taken such offence at S--, because he looked

and talked, and ate and drank like any other man, that he spoke

contemptuously of his understanding ever after, and never would repeat

his visit, until he had exhibited the following proof of his caprice.

Wat Wyvil, the poet, having made some unsuccessful advances towards an

intimacy with S--, at last gave him to understand, by a third person,

that he had written a poem in his praise, and a satire against his

person; that if he would admit him to his house, the first should be

immediately sent to press; but that if he persisted in declining his

friendship, he would publish his satire without delay. S-- replied, that

he looked upon Wyvil’s panegyrick, as in effect, a species of infamy,

and would resent it accordingly with a good cudgel; but if he published

the satire, he might deserve his compassion, and had nothing to fear

from his revenge. Wyvil having considered the alternative, resolved to

mortify S-- by printing the panegyrick, for which he received a sound

drubbing. Then he swore the peace against the aggressor, who, in order

to avoid a prosecution at law, admitted him to his good graces. It was

the singularity in S--‘s conduct, on this occasion, that reconciled him

to the yellow-gloved philosopher, who owned he had some genius, and from

that period cultivated his acquaintance.

Curious to know upon what subjects the several talents of my

fellow-guests were employed, I applied to my communicative friend Dick

Ivy, who gave me to understand, that most of them were, or had been,

understrappers, or journeymen, to more creditable authors, for whom they

translated, collated, and compiled, in the business of bookmaking; and

that all of them had, at different times, laboured in the service of

our landlord, though they had now set up for themselves in various

departments of literature. Not only their talents, but also their

nations and dialects were so various, that our conversation resembled

the confusion of tongues at Babel. We had the Irish brogue, the

Scotch accent, and foreign idiom, twanged off by the most discordant

vociferation; for, as they all spoke together, no man had any chance

to be heard, unless he could bawl louder than his fellows. It must be

owned, however, there was nothing pedantic in their discourse; they

carefully avoided all learned disquisitions, and endeavoured to be

facetious; nor did their endeavours always miscarry--some droll repartee

passed, and much laughter was excited; and if any individual lost his

temper so far as to transgress the bounds of decorum, he was effectually

checked by the master of the feast, who exerted a sort of paternal

authority over this irritable tribe.

The most learned philosopher of the whole collection, who had been

expelled the university for atheism, has made great progress in a

refutation of lord Bolingbroke’s metaphysical works, which is said to

be equally ingenious, and orthodox; but, in the mean time, he has been

presented to the grand jury as a public nuisance, for having blasphemed

in an ale-house on the Lord’s day. The Scotchman gives lectures on the

pronunciation of the English language, which he is now publishing by

subscription.

The Irishman is a political writer, and goes by the name of my Lord

Potatoe. He wrote a pamphlet in vindication of a minister, hoping his

zeal would be rewarded with some place or pension; but, finding himself

neglected in that quarter, he whispered about, that the pamphlet was

written by the minister himself, and he published an answer to his own

production. In this, he addressed the author under the title of your

lordship with such solemnity, that the public swallowed the deceit, and

bought up the whole impression. The wise politicians of the metropolis

declared they were both masterly performances, and chuckled over the

flimsy reveries of an ignorant garretteer, as the profound speculations

of a veteran statesman, acquainted with all the secrets of the cabinet.

The imposture was detected in the sequel, and our Hibernian pamphleteer

retains no part of his assumed importance, but the bare title of

my lord, and the upper part of the table at the potatoe-ordinary in

Shoelane.

Opposite to me sat a Piedmontese, who had obliged the public with

a humorous satire, intituled, The Ballance of the English Poets, a

performance which evinced the great modesty and taste of the author,

and, in particular, his intimacy with the elegancies of the English

language. The sage, who laboured under the agrophobia, or horror of

green fields, had just finished a treatise on practical agriculture,

though, in fact, he had never seen corn growing in his life, and was

so ignorant of grain, that our entertainer, in the face of the whole

company, made him own, that a plate of hominy was the best rice pudding

he had ever eat.

The stutterer had almost finished his travels through Europe and part

of Asia, without ever budging beyond the liberties of the King’s Bench,

except in term-time, with a tipstaff for his companion; and as for

little Tim Cropdale, the most facetious member of the whole society,

he had happily wound up the catastrophe of a virgin tragedy, from the

exhibition of which he promised himself a large fund of profit and

reputation. Tim had made shift to live many years by writing novels,

at the rate of five pounds a volume; but that branch of business is now

engrossed by female authors, who publish merely for the propagation of

virtue, with so much ease and spirit, and delicacy, and knowledge of the

human heart, and all in the serene tranquillity of high life, that the

reader is not only inchanted by their genius, but reformed by their

morality.

After dinner, we adjourned into the garden, where, I observed, Mr S--

gave a short separate audience to every individual in a small remote

filbert walk, from whence most of them dropt off one after another,

without further ceremony; but they were replaced by fresh recruits of

the same clan, who came to make an afternoon’s visit; and, among others,

a spruce bookseller, called Birkin, who rode his own gelding, and made

his appearance in a pair of new jemmy boots, with massy spurs of plate.

It was not without reason, that this midwife of the Muses used exercise

a-horseback, for he was too fat to walk a-foot, and he underwent some

sarcasms from Tim Cropdale, on his unwieldy size and inaptitude for

motion. Birkin, who took umbrage at this poor author’s petulance in

presuming to joke upon a man so much richer than himself, told him, he

was not so unwieldy but that he could move the Marshalsea court for a

writ, and even overtake him with it, if he did not very speedily come

and settle accounts with him, respecting the expence of publishing his

last ode to the king of Prussia, of which he had sold but three, and

one of them was to Whitfield the methodist. Tim affected to receive this

intimation with good humour, saying, he expected in a post or two, from

Potsdam, a poem of thanks from his Prussian majesty, who knew very well

how to pay poets in their own coin; but, in the mean time, he proposed,

that Mr Birkin and he should run three times round the garden for a bowl

of punch, to be drank at Ashley’s in the evening, and he would run boots

against stockings. The bookseller, who valued himself upon his mettle,

was persuaded to accept the challenge, and he forthwith resigned

his boots to Cropdale, who, when he had put them on, was no bad

representation of captain Pistol in the play.

Every thing being adjusted, they started together with great

impetuosity, and, in the second round, Birkin had clearly the advantage,

larding the lean earth as he puff’d along. Cropdale had no mind to

contest the victory further; but, in a twinkling, disappeared through

the back-door of the garden, which opened into a private lane, that had

communication with the high road.--The spectators immediately began to

hollow, ‘Stole away!’ and Birkin set off in pursuit of him with great

eagerness; but he had not advanced twenty yards in the lane, when a

thorn running into his foot, sent him hopping back into the garden,

roaring with pain, and swearing with vexation. When he was delivered

from this annoyance by the Scotchman, who had been bred to surgery, he

looked about him wildly, exclaiming, ‘Sure, the fellow won’t be such

a rogue as to run clear away with my boots!’ Our landlord, having

reconnoitered the shoes he had left, which, indeed, hardly deserved that

name, ‘Pray (said he), Mr Birkin, wa’n’t your boots made of calf-skin?’

‘Calf-skin or cow-skin (replied the other) I’ll find a slip of

sheep-skin that will do his business--I lost twenty pounds by his farce

which you persuaded me to buy--I am out of pocket five pounds by

his damn’d ode; and now this pair of boots, bran new, cost me

thirty shillings, as per receipt--But this affair of the boots is

felony--transportation.--I’ll have the dog indicted at the Old Bailey--I

will, Mr S-- I will be reveng’d, even though I should lose my debt in

consequence of his conviction.’

Mr S-- said nothing at present, but accommodated him with a pair of

shoes; then ordered his servant to rub him down, and comfort him with a

glass of rum-punch, which seemed, in a great measure, to cool the rage

of his indignation. ‘After all (said our landlord) this is no more

than a humbug in the way of wit, though it deserves a more respectable

epithet, when considered as an effort of invention. Tim, being (I

suppose) out of credit with the cordwainer, fell upon this ingenious

expedient to supply the want of shoes, knowing that Mr Birkin, who

loves humour, would himself relish the joke upon a little recollection.

Cropdale literally lives by his wit, which he has exercised upon all his

friends in their turns. He once borrowed my poney for five or six days

to go to Salisbury, and sold him in Smithfield at his return. This was

a joke of such a serious nature, that, in the first transports of my

passion, I had some thoughts of prosecuting him for horse-stealing;

and even when my resentment had in some measure subsided, as he

industriously avoided me, I vowed, I would take satisfaction on his ribs

with the first opportunity. One day, seeing him at some distance in the

street, coming towards me, I began to prepare my cane for action, and

walked in the shadow of a porter, that he might not perceive me soon

enough to make his escape; but, in the very instant I had lifted up

the instrument of correction, I found Tim Cropdale metamorphosed into a

miserable blind wretch, feeling his way with a long stick from post to

post, and rolling about two bald unlighted orbs instead of eyes. I

was exceedingly shocked at having so narrowly escaped the concern and

disgrace that would have attended such a misapplication of vengeance:

but, next day, Tim prevailed upon a friend of mine to come and solicit

my forgiveness, and offer his note, payable in six weeks, for the price

of the poney. This gentleman gave me to understand, that the blind man

was no other than Cropdale, who having seen me advancing, and

guessing my intent, had immediately converted himself into the object

aforesaid--I was so diverted at the ingenuity of the evasion, that I

agreed to pardon his offence, refusing his note, however, that I might

keep a prosecution for felony hanging over his head, as a security for

his future good behaviour--But Timothy would by no means trust himself

in my hands till the note was accepted--then he made his appearance at

my door as a blind beggar, and imposed in such a manner upon my man, who

had been his old acquaintance and pot-companion, that the fellow threw

the door in his face, and even threatened to give him the bastinado.

Hearing a noise in the hall, I went thither, and immediately

recollecting the figure I had passed in the street, accosted him by his

own name, to the unspeakable astonishment of the footman.’

Birkin declared he loved a joke as well as another; but asked if any of

the company could tell where Mr Cropdale lodged, that he might send him

a proposal about restitution, before the boots should be made away with.

‘I would willingly give him a pair of new shoes (said he), and half a

guinea into the bargain’ for the boots, which fitted me like a glove;

and I shan’t be able to get the fellows of them ‘till the good weather

for riding is over. The stuttering wit declared, that the only secret

which Cropdale ever kept, was the place of his lodgings; but he

believed, that, during the heats of summer, he commonly took his

repose upon a bulk, or indulged himself, in fresco, with one of the

kennel-nymphs, under the portico of St Martin’s church. ‘Pox on him!

(cried the bookseller) he might as well have taken my whip and spurs. In

that case, he might have been tempted to steal another horse, and then

he would have rid to the devil of course.’

After coffee, I took my leave of Mr S--, with proper acknowledgments of

his civility, and was extremely well pleased with the entertainment of

the day, though not yet satisfied, with respect to the nature of this

connexion, betwixt a man of character in the literary world, and a

parcel of authorlings, who, in all probability, would never be able

to acquire any degree of reputation by their labours. On this head

I interrogated my conductor, Dick Ivy, who answered me to this

effect--‘One would imagine S-- had some view to his own interest, in

giving countenance and assistance to those people, whom he knows to be

bad men, as well as bad writers; but, if he has any such view, he will

find himself disappointed; for if he is so vain as to imagine he can

make them, subservient to his schemes of profit or ambition, they are

cunning enough to make him their property in the mean time. There is not

one of the company you have seen to-day (myself excepted) who does

not owe him particular obligations--One of them he bailed out of a

spunging-house, and afterwards paid the debt--another he translated into

his family, and clothed, when he was turned out half naked from jail in

consequence of an act for the relief of insolvent debtors--a third, who

was reduced to a woollen night cap, and lived upon sheeps trotters, up

three pair of stairs backward in Butcher-row, he took into present pay

and free quarters, and enabled him to appear as a gentleman, without

having the fear of sheriff’s officers before his eyes. Those who are in

distress he supplies with money when he has it, and with his credit when

he is out of cash. When they want business, he either finds employment

for them in his own service, or recommends them to booksellers to

execute some project he has formed for their subsistence. They are

always welcome to his table (which though plain, is plentiful) and to

his good offices as far as they will go, and when they see Occasion,

they make use of his name with the most petulant familiarity; nay, they

do not even scruple to arrogate to themselves the merit of some of his

performances, and have been known to sell their own lucubrations as the

produce of his brain. The Scotchman you saw at dinner once personated

him at an alehouse in West-Smithfield and, in the character of S--, had

his head broke by a cow-keeper, for having spoke disrespectfully of the

Christian religion; but he took the law of him in his own person, and

the assailant was fain to give him ten pounds to withdraw his action.’

I observed, that all this appearance of liberality on the side of Mr S--

was easily accounted for, on the supposition that they flattered him

in private, and engaged his adversaries in public; and yet I was

astonished, when I recollected that I often had seen this writer

virulently abused in papers, poems, and pamphlets, and not a pen was

drawn in his defence ‘But you will be more astonished (said he) when I

assure you, those very guests whom you saw at his table to-day, were

the authors of great part of that abuse; and he himself is well aware

of their particular favours, for they are all eager to detect and betray

one another.’ ‘But this is doing the devil’s work for nothing (cried I).

What should induce them to revile their benefactor without provocation?’

‘Envy (answered Dick) is the general incitement; but they are galled by

an additional scourge of provocation. S-- directs a literary journal,

in which their productions are necessarily brought to trial; and though

many of them have been treated with such lenity and favour as they

little deserved, yet the slightest censure, such as, perhaps, could not

be avoided with any pretensions to candour and impartiality, has rankled

in the hearts of those authors to such a degree, that they have taken

immediate vengeance on the critic in anonymous libels, letters,

and lampoons. Indeed, all the writers of the age, good, bad, and

indifferent, from the moment he assumed this office, became his enemies,

either professed or in petto, except those of his friends who knew they

had nothing to fear from his strictures; and he must be a wiser man than

me who can tell what advantage or satisfaction he derives from having

brought such a nest of hornets about his ears.’

I owned, that was a point which might deserve consideration; but still

I expressed a desire to know his real motives for continuing his

friendship to a set of rascals equally ungrateful and insignificant.--He

said, he did not pretend to assign any reasonable motive; that, if

the truth must be told, the man was, in point of conduct, a most

incorrigible fool; that, though he pretended to have a knack at hitting

off characters, he blundered strangely in the distribution of his

favours, which were generally bestowed on the most undeserving of those

who had recourse to his assistance; that, indeed, this preference was

not so much owing to want of discernment as to want of resolution, for

he had not fortitude enough to resist the importunity even of the most

worthless; and, as he did not know the value of money, there was very

little merit in parting with it so easily; that his pride was gratified

in seeing himself courted by such a number of literary dependents; that,

probably, he delighted in hearing them expose and traduce one another;

and, finally, from their information, he became acquainted with all the

transactions of Grubstreet, which he had some thoughts of compiling for

the entertainment of the public.

I could not help suspecting, from Dick’s discourse, that he had some

particular grudge against S--, upon whose conduct he had put the worst

construction it would bear; and, by dint of cross-examination, I found

he was not at all satisfied with the character which had been given in

the Review of his last performance, though it had been treated civilly

in consequence of the author’s application to the critic. By all

accounts, S-- is not without weakness and caprice; but he is certainly

good-humoured and civilized; nor do I find that there is any thing

overbearing, cruel, or implacable in his disposition.

I have dwelt so long upon authors, that you will perhaps suspect I

intend to enroll myself among the fraternity; but, if I were actually

qualified for the profession, it is at best but a desperate resource

against starving, as it affords no provision for old age and infirmity.

Salmon, at the age of fourscore, is now in a garret, compiling matter,

at a guinea a sheet, for a modern historian, who, in point of age, might

be his grandchild; and Psalmonazar, after having drudged half a century

in the literary mill, in all the simplicity and abstinence of an

Asiatic, subsists upon the charity of a few booksellers, just sufficient

to keep him from the parish, I think Guy, who was himself a bookseller,

ought to have appropriated one wing or ward of his hospital to the use

of decayed authors; though indeed, there is neither hospital, college,

nor workhouse, within the bills of mortality, large enough to contain

the poor of this society, composed, as it is, from the refuse of every

other profession.

I know not whether you will find any amusement in this account of an odd

race of mortals, whose constitution had, I own, greatly interested the

curiosity of

Yours, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 10.

To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester.

MY DEAR LETTY,

There is something on my spirits, which I should not venture to

communicate by the post, but having the opportunity of Mrs Brentwood’s

return, I seize it eagerly, to disburthen my poor heart, which is

oppressed with fear and vexation.--O Letty! what a miserable situation

it is, to be without a friend to whom one can apply for counsel and

consolation in distress! I hinted in my last, that one Mr Barton had

been very particular in his civilities: I can no longer mistake his

meaning--he has formally professed himself my admirer; and, after

a thousand assiduities, perceiving I made but a cold return to his

addresses, he had recourse to the mediation of lady Griskin, who has

acted the part of a very warm advocate in his behalf:--but, my dear

Willis, her ladyship over acts her part--she not only expatiates on the

ample fortune, the great connexions, and the unblemished character of

Mr Barton, but she takes the trouble to catechise me; and, two days ago,

peremptorily told me, that a girl of my age could not possibly resist so

many considerations, if her heart was not pre-engaged.

This insinuation threw me into such a flutter, that she could not but

observe my disorder; and, presuming upon the discovery, insisted upon

my making her the confidante of my passion. But, although I had not such

command of myself as to conceal the emotion of my heart, I am not such a

child as to disclose its secret to a person who would certainly use

them to its prejudice. I told her, it was no wonder if I was out of

countenance at her introducing a subject of conversation so unsuitable

to my years and inexperience; that I believed Mr Barton was a very

worthy gentleman, and I was much obliged to him for his good opinion;

but the affections were involuntary, and mine, in particular, had as

yet made no concessions in his favour. She shook her head with an air of

distrust that made me tremble; and observed, that if my affections were

free, they would submit to the decision of prudence, especially when

enforced by the authority of those who had a right to direct my conduct.

This remark implied a design to interest my uncle or my aunt, perhaps my

brother, in behalf of Mr Barton’s passion; and I am sadly afraid that

my aunt is already gained over. Yesterday in the forenoon, he had been

walking with us in the Park, and stopping in our return at a toy-shop,

he presented her with a very fine snuff-box, and me with a gold etuis,

which I resolutely refused, till she commanded me to accept it on pain

of her displeasure: nevertheless, being still unsatisfied with respect

to the propriety of receiving this toy, I signified my doubts to my

brother, who said he would consult my uncle on the subject, and seemed

to think Mr Barton had been rather premature in his presents.

What will be the result of this consultation, Heaven knows; but I am

afraid it will produce an explanation with Mr Barton, who will, no

doubt, avow his passion, and solicit their consent to a connexion which

my soul abhors; for, my dearest Letty, it is not in my power to love Mr

Barton, even if my heart was untouched by any other tenderness. Not that

there is any thing disagreeable about his person, but there is a total

want of that nameless charm which captivates and controuls the inchanted

spirit at least, he appears to me to have this defect; but if he had

all the engaging qualifications which a man can possess, they would be

excited in vain against that constancy, which, I flatter myself, is the

characteristic of my nature. No, my dear Willis, I may be involved in

fresh troubles, and I believe I shall, from the importunities of this

gentleman and the violence of my relations; but my heart is incapable of

change.

You know I put no faith in dreams; and yet I have been much disturbed

by one that visited me last night.--I thought I was in a church, where

a certain person, whom you know, was on the point of being married to my

aunt; that the clergyman was Mr Barton, and that poor forlorn I, stood

weeping in a corner, half naked, and without shoes or stockings.--Now,

I know there is nothing so childish as to be moved by those vain

illusions; but, nevertheless, in spite of all my reason, this hath

made a strong impression upon my mind, which begins to be very gloomy.

Indeed, I have another more substantial cause of affliction--I have some

religious scruples, my dear friend, which lie heavy on my conscience.--I

was persuaded to go to the Tabernacle, where I heard a discourse that

affected me deeply.--I have prayed fervently to be enlightened, but

as yet I am not sensible of these inward motions, those operations of

grace, which are the signs of a regenerated spirit; and therefore I

begin to be in terrible apprehensions about the state of my poor soul.

Some of our family have had very uncommon accessions, particularly

my aunt and Mrs Jenkins, who sometimes speak as if they were really

inspired; so that I am not like to want for either exhortation or

example, to purify my thoughts, and recall them from the vanities of

this world, which, indeed, I would willingly resign, if it was in my

power; but to make this sacrifice, I must be enabled by such assistance

from above as hath not yet been indulged to

Your unfortunate friend, LYDIA MELFORD June 10.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

The moment I received your letter, I began to execute your

commission--With the assistance of mine host at the Bull and Gate, I

discovered the place to which your fugitive valet had retreated, and

taxed him with his dishonesty--The fellow was in manifest confusion at

sight of me, but he denied the charge with great confidence, till I told

him, that if he would give up the watch, which was a family piece, he

might keep the money and the clothes, and go to the devil his own way,

at his leisure; but if he rejected this proposal, I would deliver him

forthwith to the constable, whom I had provided for that purpose, and

he would carry him before the justice without further delay. After

some hesitation, he desired to speak with me in the next room, where he

produced the watch, with all its appendages, and I have delivered it to

our landlord, to be sent you by the first safe conveyance.

So much for business.

I shall grow vain, upon your saying you find entertainment in my

letters; barren, as they certainly are, of incident and importance,

because your amusement must arise, not from the matter, but from the

manner, which you know is all my own--Animated, therefore, by the

approbation of a person, whose nice taste and consummate judgment I can

no longer doubt, I will chearfully proceed with our memoirs--As it is

determined we shall set out next week for Yorkshire, I went to-day in

the forenoon with my uncle to see a carriage, belonging to a coachmaker

in our neighbourhood--Turning down a narrow lane, behind Longacre, we

perceived a crowd of people standing at a door; which, it seems, opened

into a kind of a methodist meeting, and were informed, that a footman

was then holding forth to the congregation within. Curious to see this

phoenomenon, we squeezed into the place with much difficulty; and who

should this preacher be, but the identical Humphry Clinker. He had

finished his sermon, and given out a psalm, the first stave of which he

sung with peculiar graces--But if we were astonished to see Clinker in

the pulpit, we were altogether confounded at finding all the females

of our family among the audience--There was lady Griskin, Mrs Tabitha

Bramble, Mrs Winifred Jenkins, my sister Liddy, and Mr Barton, and all

of them joined in the psalmody, with strong marks of devotion.

I could hardly keep my gravity on this ludicrous occasion; but old

Square-toes was differently affected--The first thing that struck him,

was the presumption of his lacquey, whom he commanded to come down, with

such an air of authority as Humphry did not think proper to disregard.

He descended immediately, and all the people were in commotion. Barton

looked exceedingly sheepish, lady Griskin flirted her fan, Mrs Tabby

groaned in spirit, Liddy changed countenance, and Mrs Jenkins sobbed as

if her heart was breaking--My uncle, with a sneer, asked pardon of the

ladies, for having interrupted their devotion, saying, he had particular

business with the preacher, whom he ordered to call a hackney-coach.

This being immediately brought up to the end of the lane, he handed

Liddy into it, and my aunt and I following him, we drove home, without

taking any further notice of the rest of the company, who still remained

in silent astonishment.

Mr Bramble, perceiving Liddy in great trepidation, assumed a milder

aspect, bidding her be under no concern, for he was not at all

displeased at any thing she had done--‘I have no objection (said he)

to your being religiously inclined; but I don’t think my servant is a

proper ghostly director for a devotee of your sex and character--if,

in fact (as I rather believe) your aunt is not the sole conductress of,

this machine’--Mrs Tabitha made no answer, but threw up the whites of

her eyes, as if in the act of ejaculation--Poor Liddy, said, she had no

right to the title of a devotee; that she thought there was no harm in

hearing a pious discourse, even if it came from a footman, especially

as her aunt was present; but that if she had erred from ignorance, she

hoped he would excuse it, as she could not bear the thoughts of living

under his displeasure. The old gentleman, pressing her hand with a

tender smile, said she was a good girl, and that he did not believe

her capable of doing any thing that could give him the least umbrage or

disgust.

When we arrived at our lodgings, he commanded Mr Clinker to attend him

up stairs, and spoke to him in these words--‘Since you are called upon

by the spirit to preach and to teach, it is high time to lay aside the

livery of an earthly master; and for my part, I am unworthy to have an

apostle in my service’--‘I hope (said Humphry) I have not failed in my

duty to your honour--I should be a vile wretch if I did, considering the

misery from which your charity and compassion relieved me--but having

an inward admonition of the spirit--’ ‘An admonition of the devil (cried

the squire, in a passion) What admonition, you blockhead? What right has

such a fellow as you to set up for a reformer?’ ‘Begging your honour’s

pardon (replied Clinker) may not the new light of God’s grace shine

upon the poor and the ignorant in their humility, as well as upon the

wealthy, and the philosopher in all his pride of human learning?’ ‘What

you imagine to be the new light of grace (said his master) I take to be

a deceitful vapour, glimmering through a crack in your upper story--In

a word, Mr Clinker, I will have no light in my family but what pays the

king’s taxes, unless it be the light of reason, which you don’t pretend

to follow.’

‘Ah, sir! (cried Humphry) the light of reason, is no more in comparison

to the light I mean, than a farthing candle to the sun at noon’--‘Very

true (said uncle), the one will serve to shew you your way, and the

other to dazzle and confound your weak brain. Heark ye, Clinker, you

are either an hypocritical knave, or a wrong-headed enthusiast; and in

either case, unfit for my service. If you are a quack in sanctity and

devotion, you will find it an easy matter to impose upon silly women,

and others of crazed understanding, who will contribute lavishly for

your support. If you are really seduced by the reveries of a disturbed

imagination, the sooner you lose your senses entirely, the better for

yourself and the community. In that case, some charitable person might

provide you with a dark room and clean straw in Bedlam, where it would

not be in your power to infect others with your fanaticism; whereas,

if you have just reflection enough left to maintain the character of a

chosen vessel in the meetings of the godly, you and your hearers will be

misled by a Will-i’the-wisp, from one error into another, till you are

plunged into religious frenzy; and then, perhaps, you will hang yourself

in despair’ ‘Which the Lord of his infinite mercy forbid! (exclaimed the

affrighted Clinker) It is very possible I may be under the temptation of

the devil, who wants to wreck me on the rocks of spiritual pride--Your

honour says, I am either a knave or a madman; now, as I’ll assure your

honour, I am no knave, it follows that I must be mad; therefore, I

beseech your honour, upon my knees, to take my case into consideration,

that means may be used for my recovery’

The ‘squire could not help smiling at the poor fellow’s simplicity, and

promised to take care of him, provided he would mind the business of his

place, without running after the new light of methodism: but Mrs Tabitha

took offence at his humility, which she interpreted into poorness

of spirit and worldly mindedness. She upbraided him with the want of

courage to suffer for conscience sake--She observed, that if he should

lose his place for bearing testimony to the truth, Providence would not

fail to find him another, perhaps more advantageous; and, declaring that

it could not be very agreeable to live in a family where an inquisition

was established, retired to another room in great agitation.

My uncle followed her with a significant look, then, turning to the

preacher, ‘You hear what my sister says--If you cannot live with me upon

such terms as I have prescribed, the vineyard of methodism lies before

you, and she seems very well disposed to reward your labour’--‘I would

not willingly give offence to any soul upon earth (answered Humphry);

her ladyship has been very good to me, ever since we came to London; and

surely she has a heart turned for religious exercises; and both she and

lady Griskin sing psalms and hymns like two cherubims--But, at the same

time, I’m bound to love and obey your honour--It becometh not such a

poor ignorant fellow as me, to hold dispute with gentlemen of rank and

learning--As for the matter of knowledge, I am no more than a beast in

comparison of your honour; therefore I submit; and, with God’s grace, I

will follow you to the world’s end, if you don’t think me too far gone

to be out of confinement’.

His master promised to keep him for some time longer on trial; then

desired to know in what manner lady Griskin and Mr Barton came to join

their religious society, he told him, that her ladyship was the person

who first carried my aunt and sister to the Tabernacle, whither he

attended them, and had his devotion kindled by Mr W--‘s preaching: that

he was confirmed in this new way, by the preacher’s sermons, which he

had bought and studied with great attention: that his discourse and

prayers had brought over Mrs Jenkins and the house-maid to the same

way of thinking; but as for Mr Barton, he had never seen him at service

before this day, when he came in company with lady Griskin. Humphry,

moreover, owned that he had been encouraged to mount the rostrum, by

the example and success of a weaver, who was much followed as a powerful

minister: that on his first trial he found himself under such strong

impulsions, as made him believe he was certainly moved by the spirit;

and that he had assisted in lady Griskin’s, and several private houses,

at exercises of devotion.

Mr Bramble was no sooner informed, that her ladyship had acted as the

primum mobile of this confederacy, than he concluded she had only made

use of Clinker as a tool, subservient to the execution of some design,

to the true secret of which he was an utter stranger--He observed, that

her ladyship’s brain was a perfect mill for projects; and that she and

Tabby had certainly engaged in some secret treaty, the nature of which

he could not comprehend. I told him I thought it was no difficult matter

to perceive the drift of Mrs Tabitha, which was to ensnare the heart

of Barton, and that in all likelihood my lady Griskin acted as her

auxiliary: that this supposition would account for their endeavours to

convert him to methodism; an event which would occasion a connexion of

souls that might be easily improved into a matrimonial union.

My uncle seemed to be much diverted by the thoughts of this Scheme’s

succeeding; but I gave him to understand, that Barton was pre-engaged:

that he had the day before made a present of an etuis to Liddy,

which her aunt had obliged her to receive, with a view, no doubt, to

countenance her own accepting of a snuff-box at the same time; that my

sister having made me acquainted with this incident, I had desired an

explanation of Mr Barton, who declared his intentions were honourable,

and expressed his hope that I would have no objections to his alliance;

that I had thanked him for the honour he intended our family; but told

him, it would be necessary to consult her uncle and aunt, who were

her guardians; and their approbation being obtained, I could have no

objection to his proposal; though I was persuaded that no violence would

be offered to my sister’s inclinations, in a transaction that so nearly

interested the happiness of her future life: that he had assured me, he

should never think of availing himself of a guardian’s authority, unless

he could render his addresses agreeable to the young lady herself; and

that he would immediately demand permission of Mr and Mrs Bramble, to

make Liddy a tender of his hand and fortune.

The squire was not insensible to the advantages of such a match, and

declared he would promote it with all his influence; but when I took

notice that there seemed to be an aversion on the side of Liddy, he said

he would sound her on the subject; and if her reluctance was such as

would not be easily overcome, he would civilly decline the proposal of

Mr Barton; for he thought that, in the choice of a husband a young woman

ought not to sacrifice the feelings of her heart for any consideration

upon earth--‘Liddy is not so desperate (said he) as to worship fortune

at such an expence.’

I take it for granted, this whole affair will end in smoke; though there

seems to be a storm brewing in the quarter of Mrs Tabby, who sat with

all the sullen dignity of silence at dinner, seemingly pregnant with

complaint and expostulation. As she had certainly marked Barton for her

own prey, she cannot possibly favour his suit to Liddy; and therefore

I expect something extraordinary will attend his declaring himself my

sister’s admirer. This declaration will certainly be made in form, as

soon as the lover can pick up resolution enough to stand the brunt

of Mrs Tabby’s disappointment; for he is, without doubt, aware of her

designs upon his person--The particulars of the denouement you shall

know in due season: mean while I am

Always yours, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 10.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR LEWIS,

The deceitful calm was of short duration. I am plunged again in a sea of

vexation, and the complaints in my stomach and bowels are returned; so

that I suppose I shall be disabled from prosecuting the excursion I had

planned--What the devil had I to do, to come a plague hunting with a

leash of females in my train? Yesterday my precious sister (who, by

the bye, has been for some time a professed methodist) came into my

apartment, attended by Mr Barton, and desired an audience with a very

stately air--‘Brother (said she), this gentleman has something to

propose, which I flatter myself will be the more acceptable, as it will

rid you of a troublesome companion.’ Then Mr Barton proceeded to this

effect--‘I am, indeed, extremely ambitious of being allied to your

family, Mr Bramble, and I hope you will see no cause to interpose your

authority.’ ‘As for authority (said Tabby, interrupting him with some

warmth), I know of none that he has a right to use on this occasion--If

I pay him the compliment of making him acquainted with the step I intend

to take, it is all he can expect in reason--This is as much as I

believe he would do by me, if he intended to change his own situation in

life--In a word, brother, I am so sensible of Mr Barton’s extra ordinary

merit, that I have been prevailed upon to alter my resolution of living

a single life, and to put my happiness in his hands, by vesting him with

a legal title to my person and fortune, such as they are. The business

at present, is to have the writings drawn; and I shall be obliged to

you, if you will recommend a lawyer to me for that purpose’

You may guess what an effect this overture had upon me; who, from the

information of my nephew, expected that Barton was to make a formal

declaration of his passion for Liddy; I could not help gazing in silent

astonishment, alternately at Tabby, and her supposed admirer, who last

hung his head in the most aukward confusion for a few minutes, and then

retired on pretence of being suddenly seized with a vertigo--Mrs Tabitha

affected much concern, and would have had him make use of a bed in the

house; but he insisted upon going home, that he might have recourse

of some drops, which he kept for such emergencies, and his innamorata

acquiesced--In the mean time I was exceedingly puzzled at this adventure

(though I suspected the truth) and did not know in what manner to demean

myself towards Mrs Tabitha, when Jery came in and told me, he had just

seen Mr Barton alight from his chariot at lady Griskin’s door--This

incident seemed to threaten a visit from her ladyship, with which we

were honoured accordingly, in less than half an hour--‘I find (said she)

there has been a match of cross purposes among you good folks; and

I’m come to set you to rights’--So saying, she presented me with the

following billet

‘DEAR SIR,

I no sooner recollected myself from the extreme confusion I was thrown

into, by that unlucky mistake of your sister, than I thought it my duty

to assure you, that my devoirs to Mrs Bramble never exceeded the bounds

of ordinary civility; and that my heart is unalterably fixed upon Miss

Liddy Melford, as I had the honour to declare to her brother, when he

questioned me upon that subject--Lady Griskin has been so good as to

charge herself, not only with the delivery of this note, but also with

the task of undeceiving Mrs Bramble, for whom I have the most profound

respect and veneration, though my affection being otherwise engaged is

no longer in the power of

Sir, Your very humble servant, RALPH BARTON.’

Having cast my eyes over this billet, I told her ladyship, that I would

no longer retard the friendly office she had undertaken: and I and

Jery forthwith retired into another room. There we soon perceived the

conversation grow very warm betwixt the two ladies; and, at length,

could distinctly hear certain terms of altercation, which we could no

longer delay interrupting, with any regard to decorum. When we entered

the scene of contention, we found Liddy had joined the disputants, and

stood trembling betwixt them, as if she had been afraid they would have

proceeded to something more practical than words. Lady Griskin’s

face was like the full moon in a storm of wind, glaring, fiery,

and portentous; while Tabby looked grim and ghastly, with an aspect

breathing discord and dismay.--Our appearance put a stop to their mutual

revilings; but her ladyship turning to me, ‘Cousin (said she) I can’t

help saying I have met with a very ungrateful return from this lady, for

the pains I have taken to serve her family’--‘My family is much obliged

to your ladyship (cried Tabby, with a kind of hysterical giggle); but

we have no right to the good offices of such an honourable go-between.’

‘But, for all that, good Mrs Tabitha Bramble (resumed the other), I

shall be content with the reflection, That virtue is its own reward;

and it shall not be my fault, if you continue to make yourself

ridiculous--Mr Bramble, who has no little interest of his own to serve,

will, no doubt, contribute all in his power to promote a match

betwixt Mr Barton and his niece, which will be equally honourable and

advantageous; and, I dare say, Miss Liddy herself will have no objection

to a measure so well calculated to make her happy in life’--‘I beg your

ladyship’s pardon (exclaimed Liddy, with great vivacity) I have nothing

but misery to expect from such a measure; and I hope my guardians

will have too much compassion, to barter my peace of mind for any

consideration of interest or fortune’--‘Upon my word, Miss Liddy! (said

she) you have profited by the example of your good aunt--I comprehend

your meaning, and will explain it when I have a proper opportunity--In

the mean time, I shall take my leave--Madam, your most obedient, and

devoted humble servant,’ said she, advancing close up to my sister, and

curtsying so low, that I thought she intended to squat herself down on

the floor--This salutation Tabby returned with equal solemnity; and

the expression of the two faces, while they continued in this attitude,

would be no bad subject for a pencil like that of the incomparable

Hogarth, if any such should ever appear again, in these times of

dullness and degeneracy.

Jery accompanied her ladyship to her house, that he might have an

opportunity to restore the etuis to Barton, and advise him to give

up his suit, which was so disagreeable to his sister, against whom,

however, he returned much irritated--Lady Griskin had assured him that

Liddy’s heart was pre-occupied; and immediately the idea of Wilson

recurring to his imagination, his family-pride took the alarm. He

denounced vengeance against the adventurer, and was disposed to be

very peremptory with his sister; but I desired he would suppress his

resentment, until I should have talked with her in private.

The poor girl, when I earnestly pressed her on this head, owned with

a flood of tears, that Wilson had actually come to the Hot Well at

Bristol, and even introduced himself into our lodgings as a Jew pedlar;

but that nothing had passed betwixt them, further than her begging him

to withdraw immediately, if he had any regard for her peace of mind:

that he had disappeared accordingly, after having attempted to prevail

upon my sister’s maid, to deliver a letter; which, however, she refused

to receive, though she had consented to carry a message, importing that

he was a gentleman of a good family; and that, in a very little time, he

would avow his passion in that character--She confessed, that although

he had not kept his word in this particular, he was not yet altogether

indifferent to her affection; but solemnly promised, she would never

carry on any correspondence with him, or any other admirer, for the

future, without the privity and approbation of her brother and me.

By this declaration, she made her own peace with Jery; but the

hot-headed boy is more than ever incensed against Wilson, whom he now

considers as an impostor, that harbours some infamous design upon the

honour of his family--As for Barton he was not a little mortified to

find his present returned, and his addresses so unfavourably received;

but he is not a man to be deeply affected by such disappointments; and

I know not whether he is not as well pleased with being discarded

by Liddy, as he would have been with a permission to prosecute his

pretensions, at the risque of being every day exposed to the revenge or

machinations of Tabby, who is not to be slighted with impunity.--I

had not much time to moralize on these occurrences; for the house

was visited by a constable and his gang, with a warrant from Justice

Buzzard, to search the box of Humphry Clinker, my footman,--who was just

apprehended as a highwayman. This incident threw the whole family into

confusion. My sister scolded the constable for presuming to enter the

lodgings of a gentleman on such an errand, without having first asked,

and obtained permission; her maid was frightened into fits, and Liddy

shed tears of compassion for the unfortunate Clinker, in whose box,

however, nothing was found to confirm the suspicion of robbery.

For my own part, I made no doubt of the fellow’s being mistaken for some

other person, and I went directly to the justice, in order to procure

his discharge; but there I found the matter much more serious than

I expected--Poor Clinker stood trembling at the bar, surrounded by

thief-takers; and at a little distance, a thick, squat fellow, a

postilion, his accuser, who had seized him on the street, and swore

positively to his person, that the said Clinker had, on the 15th day of

March last, on Blackheath, robbed a gentleman in a post-chaise, which

he (the postilion) drove--This deposition was sufficient to justify his

commitment; and he was sent accordingly to Clerkenwell prison, whither

Jery accompanied him in the coach, in order to recommend him properly to

the keeper, that he may want for no convenience which the place affords.

The spectators, who assembled to see this highwayman, were sagacious

enough to discern something very villainous in his aspect; which

(begging their pardon) is the very picture of simplicity; and the

justice himself put a very unfavourable construction upon some of his

answers, which, he said, savoured of the ambiguity and equivocation of

an old offender; but, in my opinion, it would have been more just and

humane to impute them to the confusion into which we may suppose a poor

country lad to be thrown on such an occasion. I am still persuaded he is

innocent; and, in this persuasion, I can do no less than use my utmost

endeavours that he may not be oppressed--I shall, to-morrow, send my

nephew to wait on the gentleman who was robbed, and beg; he will have

the humanity to go and see the prisoner; that, in case he should find

him quite different from the person of the highwayman, he may bear

testimony in his behalf--Howsoever it may fare with Clinker, this cursed

affair will be to me productive of intolerable chagrin--I have already

caught a dreadful cold, by rushing into the open air from the justice’s

parlour, where I had been stewing in the crowd; and though I should not

be laid up with the gout, as I believe I shall, I must stay at London

for some weeks, till this poor devil comes to his trial at Rochester; so

that, in all probability, my northern expedition is blown up.

If you can find any thing in your philosophical budget, to console me

in the midst of these distresses and apprehensions, pray let it be

communicated to

Your unfortunate friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 12.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR WAT,

The farce is finished, and another piece of a graver cast brought upon

the stage.--Our aunt made a desperate attack upon Barton, who had no

other way of saving himself, but by leaving her in possession of

the field, and avowing his pretensions to Liddy, by whom he has been

rejected in his turn.--Lady Griskin acted as his advocate and agent on

this occasion, with such zeal as embroiled her with Mrs Tabitha, and a

high scene of altercation passed betwixt these two religionists, which

might have come to action, had not my uncle interposed. They are however

reconciled, in consequence of an event which hath involved us all in

trouble and disquiet. You must know, the poor preacher, Humphry Clinker,

is now exercising his ministry among the felons in Clerkenwell prison--A

postilion having sworn a robbery against him, no bail could be taken,

and he was committed to jail, notwithstanding all the remonstrances and

interest my uncle could make in his behalf.

All things considered, the poor fellow cannot possibly be guilty,

and yet, I believe, he runs some risque of being hanged. Upon his

examination, he answered with such hesitation and reserve as persuaded

most of the people, who crowded the place, that he was really a knave,

and the justice’s remarks confirmed their opinion. Exclusive of my uncle

and myself, there was only one person who seemed inclined to favour

the culprit.--He was a young man, well dressed, and, from the manner in

which he cross-examined the evidence, we took it for granted, that

he was a student in one of the inns of court.--He freely checked the

justice for some uncharitable inferences he made to the prejudice of

the prisoner, and even ventured to dispute with his worship on certain

points of law.

My uncle, provoked at the unconnected and dubious answers of Clinker,

who seemed in danger of falling a sacrifice to his own simplicity,

exclaimed, ‘In the name of God, if you are innocent, say so.’ ‘No (cried

he) God forbid that I should call myself innocent, while my conscience

is burthened with sin.’ ‘What then, you did commit this robbery?’

resumed his master. ‘No, sure (said he) blessed be the Lord, I’m free of

that guilt.’

Here the justice interposed, observing, that the man seemed inclined to

make a discovery by turning king’s evidence, and desired the clerk to

take his confession; upon which Humphry declared, that he looked upon

confession to be a popish fraud, invented by the whore of Babylon. The

Templar affirmed, that the poor fellow was non compos; and exhorted the

justice to discharge him as a lunatic.--‘You know very well (added he)

that the robbery in question was not committed by the prisoner.’

The thief-takers grinned at one another; and Mr Justice Buzzard

replied with great emotion, ‘Mr Martin, I desire you will mind your

own business; I shall convince you one of these days that I understand

mine.’ In short, there was no remedy; the mittimus was made out,

and poor Clinker sent to prison in a hackney-coach, guarded by the

constable, and accompanied by your humble servant. By the way, I was not

a little surprised to hear this retainer to justice bid the prisoner to

keep up his spirits, for that he did not at all doubt but that he would

get off for a few weeks confinement--He said, his worship knew very well

that Clinker was innocent of the fact, and that the real highwayman who

robbed the chaise, was no other than that very individual Mr Martin, who

had pleaded so strenuously for honest Humphry.

Confounded at this information, I asked, ‘Why then is he suffered to

go about at his liberty, and this poor innocent fellow treated as a

malefactor?’ ‘We have exact intelligence of all Mr Martin’s transactions

(said he); but as yet there is not evidence sufficient for his

conviction; and as for this young man, the justice could do no less than

commit him, as the postilion swore point-blank to his identity.’ ‘So

if this rascally postilion should persist in the falsity to which he is

sworn (said I), this innocent lad may be brought to the gallows.’

The constable observed, that he would have time enough to prepare

for his trial, and might prove an alibi; or, perhaps, Martin might be

apprehended and convicted for another fact; in which case, he might be

prevailed upon to take this affair upon himself; or, finally, if these

chances should fail, and the evidence stand good against Clinker,

the jury might recommend him to mercy, in consideration of his youth,

especially if this should appear to be the first fact of which he had

been guilty.

Humphry owned he could not pretend to recollect where he had been on the

day when the robbery was committed, much less prove a circumstance of

that kind so far back as six months, though he knew he had been sick

of the fever and ague, which, however, did not prevent him from going

about--then, turning up his eyes, he ejaculated, ‘The Lord’s will be

done! if it be my fate to suffer, I hope I shall not disgrace the faith

of which, though unworthy, I make profession.’

When I expressed my surprize that the accuser should persist in charging

Clinker, without taking the least notice of the real robber who

stood before him, and to whom, indeed, Humphry bore not the smallest

resemblance; the constable (who was himself a thief-taker) gave me to

understand, that Mr Martin was the best qualified for business of all

the gentlemen on the road he had ever known; that he had always acted on

his own bottom, without partner or correspondent, and never went to work

but when he was cool and sober; that his courage and presence of mind

never failed him; that his address was genteel, and his behaviour void

of all cruelty and insolence; that he never encumbered himself with

watches or trinkets, nor even with bank-notes, but always dealt for

ready money, and that in the current coin of the kingdom; and that he

could disguise himself and his horse in such a manner, that, after

the action, it was impossible to recognize either the one or the

other--‘This great man (said he) has reigned paramount in all the roads

within fifty miles of London above fifteen months, and has done more

business in that time, than all the rest of the profession put together;

for those who pass through his hands are so delicately dealt with, that

they have no desire to give him the least disturbance; but for all that,

his race is almost run--he is now fluttering about justice, like a moth

about a candle--there are so many lime-twigs laid in his way, that I’ll

bet a cool hundred, he swings before Christmas.’

Shall I own to you, that this portrait, drawn by a ruffian, heightened

by what I myself had observed in his deportment, has interested me

warmly in the fate of poor Martin, whom nature seems to have intended

for a useful and honourable member of that community upon which he now

preys for subsistence? It seems, he lived some time as a clerk to a

timber-merchant, whose daughter Martin having privately married, was

discarded, and his wife turned out of doors. She did not long survive

her marriage; and Martin, turning fortune-hunter, could not supply his

occasions any other way, than by taking to the road, in which he

has travelled hitherto with uncommon success.--He pays his respects

regularly to Mr Justice Buzzard, the thief-catcher-general of this

metropolis, and sometimes they smoke a pipe together very lovingly,

when the conversation generally turns upon the nature of evidence.--The

justice has given him fair warning to take care of himself, and he has

received his caution in good part.--Hitherto he has baffled all the

vigilance, art, and activity of Buzzard and his emissaries, with

such conduct as would have done honour to the genius of a Caesar or

a Turenne; but he has one weakness, which has proved fatal to all the

heroes of his tribe, namely, an indiscreet devotion to the fair sex, and

in all probability, he will be attacked on this defenceless quarter.

Be that as it may, I saw the body of poor Clinker consigned to the

gaoler of Clerkenwell, to whose indulgence I recommended him so

effectually, that he received him in the most hospitable manner, though

there was a necessity for equipping him with a suit of irons, in which

he made a very rueful appearance. The poor creature seemed as much

affected by my uncle’s kindness, as by his own misfortune. When I

assured him, that nothing should be left undone for procuring his

enlargement, and making his confinement easy in the mean time, he fell

down on his knees, and kissing my hand, which he bathed with his tears,

‘0 ‘squire! (cried he, sobbing) what shall I say?--I can’t--no, I can’t

speak--my poor heart is bursting with gratitude to you and my dear--dear

generous--noble benefactor.’

I protest, the scene became so pathetic, that I was fain to force myself

away, and returned to my uncle, who sent me in the afternoon with

a compliment to one Mr Mead, the person who had been robbed on

Black-heath. As I did not find him at home, I left a message, in

consequence of which he called at our lodgings this morning, and very

humanely agreed to visit the prisoner. By this time, lady Griskin had

come to make her formal compliments of condolance to Mrs Tabitha, on

this domestic calamity; and that prudent maiden, whose passion was

now cooled, thought proper to receive her ladyship so civilly, that a

reconciliation immediately ensued. These two ladies resolved to comfort

the poor prisoner in their own persons, and Mr Mead and I ‘squired

them to Clerkenwell, my uncle being detained at home by some slight

complaints in his stomach and bowels.

The turnkey, who received us at Clerkenwell, looked remarkably sullen;

and when we enquired for Clinker, ‘I don’t care, if the devil had him

(said he); here has been nothing but canting and praying since the

fellow entered the place.--Rabbit him! the tap will be ruined--we han’t

sold a cask of beer, nor a dozen of wine, since he paid his garnish--the

gentlemen get drunk with nothing but your damned religion.--For my part,

I believe as how your man deals with the devil.--Two or three as bold

hearts as ever took the air upon Hounslow have been blubbering all

night; and if the fellow an’t speedily removed by Habeas Corpus, or

otherwise, I’ll be damn’d if there’s a grain of true spirit left within

these walls we shan’t have a soul to do credit to the place, or make his

exit like a true born Englishman--damn my eyes! there will be nothing

but snivelling in the cart--we shall all die like so many psalm-singing

weavers.’

In short, we found that Humphry was, at that very instant, haranguing

the felons in the chapel; and that the gaoler’s wife and daughter,

together with my aunt’s woman, Win Jenkins, and our house-maid, were

among the audience, which we immediately joined. I never saw any thing

so strongly picturesque as this congregation of felons clanking their

chains, in the midst of whom stood orator Clinker, expatiating in a

transport of fervor, on the torments of hell, denounced in scripture

against evil-doers, comprehending murderers, robbers, thieves, and

whore mongers. The variety of attention exhibited in the faces of those

ragamuffins, formed a groupe that would not have disgraced the pencil of

a Raphael. In one, it denoted admiration; in another, doubt; in a

third, disdain; in a fourth, contempt; in a fifth, terror; in a sixth,

derision; and in a seventh, indignation.--As for Mrs Winifred Jenkins,

she was in tears, overwhelmed with sorrow; but whether for her own sins,

or the misfortune of Clinker, I cannot pretend to say. The other females

seemed to listen with a mixture of wonder and devotion. The gaoler’s

wife declared he was a saint in trouble, saying, she wished from her

heart there was such another good soul, like him, in every gaol in

England.

Mr Mead, having earnestly surveyed the preacher, declared his appearance

was so different from that of the person who robbed him on Black-heath,

that he could freely make oath he was not the man: but Humphry himself

was by this time pretty well rid of all apprehensions of being hanged;

for he had been the night before solemnly tried and acquitted by his

fellow prisoners, some of whom he had already converted to methodism.

He now made proper acknowledgments for the honour of our visit, and was

permitted to kiss the hands of the ladies, who assured him, he might

depend upon their friendship and protection. Lady Griskin, in her

great zeal, exhorted his fellow-prisoners to profit by the precious

opportunity of having such a saint in bonds among them, and turn over a

new leaf for the benefit of their poor souls; and, that her admonition

might have the greater effect, she reinforced it with her bounty.

While she and Mrs Tabby returned in the coach with the two maidservants,

I waited on Mr Mead to the house of justice Buzzard, who, having heard

his declaration, said his oath could be of no use at present, but that

he would be a material evidence for the prisoner at his trial; so that

there seems to be no remedy but patience for poor Clinker; and, indeed,

the same virtue, or medicine, will be necessary for us all, the

squire in particular, who had set his heart upon his excursion to the

northward.

While we were visiting honest Humphry in Clerkenwell prison, my uncle

received a much more extraordinary visit at his own lodgings. Mr Martin,

of whom I have made such honourable mention, desired permission to pay

him his respects, and was admitted accordingly. He told him, that

having observed him, at Mr Buzzard’s, a good deal disturbed by what had

happened to his servant, he had come to assure him he had nothing to

apprehend for Clinker’s life; for, if it was possible that any jury

could find him guilty upon such evidence, he, Martin himself, would

produce in court a person, whose deposition would bring him off clear as

the sun at noon.--Sure, the fellow would not be so romantic as to

take the robbery upon himself!--He said, the postilion was an infamous

fellow, who had been a dabbler in the same profession, and saved his

life at the Old Bailey by impeaching his companions; that being now

reduced to great poverty, he had made this desperate push, to swear

away the life of an innocent man, in hopes of having the reward upon his

conviction; but that he would find himself miserably disappointed, for

the justice and his myrmidons were determined to admit of no interloper

in this branch of business; and that he did not at all doubt but that

they would find matter enough to shop the evidence himself before the

next gaol-delivery. He affirmed, that all these circumstances were well

known to the justice; and that his severity to Clinker was no other

than a hint to his master to make him a present in private, as an

acknowledgment of his candour and humanity.

This hint, however, was so unpalatable to Mr Bramble, that he declared,

with great warmth, he would rather confine himself for life to

London, which he detested, than be at liberty to leave it tomorrow, in

consequence of encouraging corruption in a magistrate. Hearing, however,

how favourable Mr Mead’s report had been for the prisoner, he is

resolved to take the advice of counsel in what manner to proceed for his

immediate enlargement. I make no doubt, but that in a day or two this

troublesome business may be discussed; and in this hope we are preparing

for our journey. If our endeavours do not miscarry, we shall have taken

the field before you hear again from

Yours, J. MELFORD LONDON, June 11

To Dr LEWIS.

Thank Heaven! dear Lewis, the clouds are dispersed, and I have now the

clearest prospect of my summer campaign, which, I hope, I shall be able

to begin to-morrow. I took the advice of counsel with respect to the

case of Clinker, in whose favour a lucky incident has intervened.

The fellow who accused him, has had his own battery turned upon

himself.--Two days ago he was apprehended for a robbery on the highway,

and committed, on the evidence of an accomplice. Clinker, having moved

for a writ of habeas corpus, was brought before the lord chief justice,

who, in consequence of an affidavit of the gentleman who had been

robbed, importing that the said Clinker was not the person who stopped

him on the highway, as well as in consideration of the postilion’s

character and present circumstances, was pleased to order, that

my servant should be admitted to bail, and he has been discharged

accordingly, to the unspeakable satisfaction of our whole family, to

which he has recommended himself in an extraordinary manner, not only by

his obliging deportment, but by his talents of preaching, praying, and

singing psalms, which he has exercised with such effect, that even Tabby

respects him as a chosen vessel. If there was any thing like affectation

or hypocrisy in this excess of religion, I would not keep him in

my service, but, so far as I can observe, the fellow’s character is

downright simplicity, warmed with a kind of enthusiasm, which renders

him very susceptible of gratitude and attachment to his benefactors.

As he is an excellent horseman, and understands farriery, I have bought

a stout gelding for his use, that he may attend us on the road, and have

an eye to our cattle, in case the coachman should not mind his business.

My nephew, who is to ride his own saddle-horse, has taken, upon trial,

a servant just come from abroad with his former master, Sir William

Strollop, who vouches for his honesty. The fellow, whose name is Dutton,

seems to be a petit maitre.--He has got a smattering of French, bows,

and grins, and shrugs, and takes snuff a la mode de France, but values

himself chiefly upon his skill and dexterity in hair-dressing.--If I

am not much deceived by appearance, he is, in all respects, the very

contrast of Humphry Clinker.

My sister has made up matters with lady Griskin; though, I must own, I

should not have been sorry to see that connexion entirely destroyed: but

Tabby is not of a disposition to forgive Barton, who, I understand,

is gone to his seat in Berkshire for the summer season. I cannot help

suspecting, that in the treaty of peace, which has been lately ratified

betwixt those two females, it is stipulated, that her ladyship shall

use her best endeavours to provide an agreeable help-mate for our sister

Tabitha, who seems to be quite desperate in her matrimonial designs.

Perhaps, the match-maker is to have a valuable consideration in the way

of brokerage, which she will most certainly deserve, if she can find

any man in his senses, who will yoke with Mrs Bramble from motives of

affection or interest.

I find my spirits and my health affect each other reciprocally that is

to say, every thing that discomposes my mind, produces a correspondent

disorder in my body; and my bodily complaints are remarkably

mitigated by those considerations that dissipate the clouds of mental

chagrin.--The imprisonment of Clinker brought on those symptoms which

I mentioned in my last, and now they are vanished at his discharge.--It

must be owned, indeed, I took some of the tincture of ginseng, prepared

according to your prescription, and found it exceedingly grateful to

the stomach; but the pain and sickness continued to return, after short

intervals, till the anxiety of my mind was entirely removed, and then I

found myself perfectly at ease. We have had fair weather these ten days,

to the astonishment of the Londoners, who think it portentous. If you

enjoy the same indulgence in Wales, I hope Barns has got my hay made,

and safe cocked by this time. As we shall be in motion for some weeks,

I cannot expect to hear from you as usual; but I shall continue to write

from every place at which we make any halt, that you may know our track,

in case it should be necessary to communicate any thing to

Your assured friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 14.

To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall, &c.

DEAR MARY,

Having the occasion of my cousin Jenkins of Aberga’ny, I send you, as

a token, a turkey-shell comb, a kiple of yards of green ribbon, and a

sarment upon the nothingness of good works, which was preached in the

Tabernacle; and you will also receive a horn-buck for Saul, whereby she

may learn her letters; for Fin much consarned about the state of her

poor sole--and what are all the pursuits of this life to the consarns of

that immortal part?--What is life but a veil of affliction? O Mary! the

whole family have been in such a constipation!--Mr Clinker has been in

trouble, but the gates of hell have not been able to prevail again him.

His virtue is like poor gould, seven times tried in the fire. He was

tuck up for a rubbery, and had before gustass Busshard, who made his

mittamouse; and the pore youth was sent to prison upon the false oaf of

a willian, that wanted to sware his life away for the looker of cain.

The ‘squire did all in his power, but could not prevent his being put

in chains, and confined among common manufactors, where he stood like

an innocent sheep in the midst of wolves and tygers.--Lord knows what

mought have happened to this pyehouse young man, if master had not

applied to Apias Korkus, who lives with the ould bailiff, and is, they

say, five hundred years old (God bless us!), and a congeror: but, if he

be, sure I am he don’t deal with the devil, otherwise he couldn’t have

fought out Mr Clinker, as he did, in spite of stone walls, iron bolts,

and double locks, that flew open at his command; for ould Scratch has

not a greater enemy upon hearth than Mr Clinker, who is, indeed, a very

powerful labourer in the Lord’s vineyard. I do no more than yuse the

words of my good lady, who has got the infectual calling; and, I

trust, that even myself, though unworthy, shall find grease to be

excepted.--Miss Liddy has been touch’d to the quick, but is a little

timorsome: howsomever, I make no doubt, but she, and all of us, will be

brought, by the endeavours of Mr Clinker, to produce blessed fruit of

generation and repentance.--As for master and the young ‘squire, they

have as yet had narro glimpse of the new light.--I doubt as how their

harts are hardened by worldly wisdom, which, as the pyebill saith, is

foolishness in the sight of God.

O Mary Jones, pray without seizing for grease to prepare you for

the operations of this wonderful instrument, which, I hope, will

be exorcised this winter upon you and others at Brambleton-hall.--

Tomorrow, we are to set out in a cox and four for Yorkshire; and, I

believe, we shall travel that way far, and far, and farther than I can

tell; but I shan’t go so far as to forget my friends; and Mary Jones

will always be remembered as one of them by her

Humble sarvant, WIN. JENKINS LONDON, June 14.

To Mrs GWYLLIM, house-keeper at Brambleton-hall. MRS GWYLLIM,

I can’t help thinking it very strange, that I never had an answer to the

letter I wrote you some weeks ago from Bath, concerning the sour bear,

the gander, and the maids eating butter, which I won’t allow to be

wasted.--We are now going upon a long journey to the north, whereby I

desire you will redouble your care and circumflexion, that the family

may be well managed in our absence; for, you know, you must render

account, not only to your earthly master, but also to him that is above;

and if you are found a good and faithful sarvant, great will be your

reward in haven. I hope there will be twenty stun of cheese ready for

market--by the time I get huom, and as much owl spun, as will make half

a dozen pair of blankets; and that the savings of the butter-milk will

fetch me a good penny before Martinmass, as the two pigs are to be fed

for baking with bitchmast and acrons.

I wrote to doctor Lews for the same porpuss, but he never had the good

manners to take the least notice of my letter; for which reason, I shall

never favour him with another, though he beshits me on his bended knees.

You will do well to keep a watchful eye over the hind Villiams, who is

one of his amissories, and, I believe, no better than he should be at

bottom. God forbid that I should lack christian charity; but charity

begins at huom, and sure nothing can be a more charitable work than to

rid the family of such vermine. I do suppose, that the bindled cow has

been had to the parson’s bull, that old Moll has had another litter of

pigs, and that Dick is become a mighty mouser. Pray order every thing

for the best, and be frugal, and keep the maids to their labour--If I

had a private opportunity, I would send them some hymns to sing instead

of profane ballads; but, as I can’t, they and you must be contented with

the prayers of

Your assured friend, T. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 14.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

The very day after I wrote my last, Clinker was set at liberty. As

Martin had foretold, the accuser was himself committed for a robbery,

upon unquestionable evidence. He had been for some time in the snares of

the thief-taking society; who, resenting his presumption in attempting

to incroach upon their monopoly of impeachment, had him taken up and

committed to Newgate, on the deposition of an accomplice, who has been

admitted as evidence for the king. The postilion being upon record as an

old offender, the chief justice made no scruple of admitting Clinker to

bail, when he perused the affidavit of Mr Mead, importing that the said

Clinker was not the person that robbed him on Blackheath; and honest

Humphry was discharged. When he came home, he expressed great eagerness

to pay his respects to his master, and here his elocution failed him,

but his silence was pathetic; he fell down at his feet and embraced his

knees, shedding a flood of tears, which my uncle did not see without

emotion. He took snuff in some confusion; and, putting his hand in

his pocket, gave him his blessing in something more substantial than

words--‘Clinker (said he), I am so well convinced, both of your honesty

and courage, that I am resolved to make you my life-guardman on the

highway.’

He was accordingly provided with a case of pistols, and a carbine to be

flung a-cross his shoulders; and every other preparation being made, we

set out last Thursday, at seven in the morning; my uncle, with the three

women in the coach; Humphry, well mounted on a black gelding bought for

his use; myself a-horseback, attended by my new valet, Mr Dutton,

an exceeding coxcomb, fresh from his travels, whom I have taken upon

trial--The fellow wears a solitaire, uses paint, and takes rappee with

all the grimace of a French marquis. At present, however, he is in a

ridingdress, jack-boots, leather breeches, a scarlet waistcoat, with

gold binding, a laced hat, a hanger, a French posting-whip in his hand,

and his hair en queue.

Before we had gone nine miles, my horse lost one of his shoes; so that I

was obliged to stop at Barnet to have another, while the coach proceeded

at an easy pace over the common. About a mile short of Hatfield, the

postilions, stopping the carriage, gave notice to Clinker that there

were two suspicious fellows a-horseback, at the end of a lane, who

semed waiting to attack the coach. Humphry forthwith apprised my uncle,

declaring he would stand by him to the last drop of his blood; and

unflinging his carbine, prepared for action. The ‘squire had pistols in

the pockets of the coach, and resolved to make use of them directly;

but he was effectually prevented by his female companions, who flung

themselves about his neck, and screamed in concert--At that instant,

who should come up at a hand-gallop, but Martin, the highway-man, who,

advancing to the coach, begged the ladies would compose themselves for

a moment then, desiring Clinker to follow him to the charge, he pulled a

pistol out of his bosom, and they rode up together to give battle to the

rogues, who, having fired at a great distance, fled across the common.

They were in pursuit of the fugitives when I came up, not a little

alarmed at the shrieks in the coach, where I found my uncle in a violent

rage, without his periwig, struggling to disentangle himself from Tabby

and the other two, and swearing with great vociferation. Before I had

time to interpose, Martin and Clinker returned from the pursuit, and

the former payed his compliments with great politeness, giving us to

understand, that the fellows had scampered off, and that he believed

they were a couple of raw ‘prentices from London. He commended Clinker

for his courage, and said, if we would give him leave, he would have the

honour to accompany us as far as Stevenage, where he had some business.

The ‘squire, having recollected and adjusted himself, was the first

to laugh at his own situation: but it was not without difficulty, that

Tabby’s arms could be untwisted from his neck; Liddy’s teeth chattered,

and Jenkins was threatened with a fit as usual. I had communicated to my

uncle the character of Martin, as it was described by the constable, and

he was much struck with its singularity--He could not suppose the fellow

had any design on our company, which was so numerous and well armed; he

therefore thanked him, for the service he had just done them, said he

would be glad of his company, and asked him to dine with us at Hatfield.

This invitation might not have been agreeable to the ladies, had they

known the real profession of our guest, but this was a secret to all,

except my uncle and myself. Mrs Tabitha, however, would by no means

consent to proceed with a case of loaded pistols in the coach, and they

were forthwith discharged in complaisance to her and the rest of the

women.

Being gratified in this particular, she became remarkably goodhumoured,

and at dinner behaved in the most affable manner to Mr Martin, with

whose polite address and agreeable conversation she seemed to be much

taken. After dinner, the landlord accosting me in the yard, asked with a

significant look, if the gentleman that rode the sorrel belonged to our

company?--I understand his meaning, but answered no; that he had come

up with us on the common, and helped us to drive away two fellows, that

looked like highwaymen--He nodded three times distinctly, as much as to

say, he knows his cue. Then he inquired, if one of those men was mounted

on a bay mare, and the other on a chestnut gelding with a white streak

down his forehead? and being answered in the affirmative, he assured me

they had robbed three post-chaises this very morning--I inquired, in my

turn, if Mr Martin was of his acquaintance; and, nodding thrice again,

he answered, that he had seen the gentleman.

Before we left Hatfield, my uncle, fixing his eyes on Martin with such

expression as is more easily conceived than described, asked, if he

often travelled that road? and he replied with a look which denoted his

understanding the question, that he very seldom did business in that

part of the country. In a word, this adventurer favoured us with his

company to the neighbourhood of Stevenage, where he took his leave of

the coach and me, in very polite terms, and turned off upon a crossroad,

that led to a village on the left--At supper, Mrs Tabby was very full

in the praise of Mr Martin’s good-sense and good-breeding, and seemed

to regret that she had not a further opportunity to make some experiment

upon his affection. In the morning, my uncle was not a little surprised

to receive, from the waiter a billet couched in these words--

‘SIR,

I could easily perceive from your looks, when I had the honour to

converse with you at Hatfield, that my character is not unknown to you;

and, I dare say you won’t think it strange, that I should be glad to

change my present way of life, for any other honest occupation, let it

be ever so humble, that will afford me bread in moderation, and sleep

in safety--Perhaps you may think I flatter, when I say, that from the

moment I was witness to your generous concern in the cause of your

servant, I conceived a particular esteem and veneration for your person;

and yet what I say is true. I should think myself happy, if I could

be admitted into your protection and service, as house-steward, clerk,

butler, or bailiff, for either of which places I think myself tolerably

well qualified; and, sure I am, I should not be found deficient in

gratitude and fidelity--At the same time, I am very sensible how much

you must deviate from the common maxims of discretion, even in putting

my professions to the trial; but I don’t look upon you as a person that

thinks in the ordinary stile; and the delicacy of my situation, will,

I know, justify this address to a heart warmed with beneficence and

compassion--Understanding you are going pretty far north, I shall take

an opportunity to throw myself in your way again, before you reach the

borders of Scotland; and, I hope, by that time, you will have taken into

consideration, the truly distressful case of,

honoured sir, your very humble, and devoted servant, EDWARD MARTIN’

The ‘squire, having perused this letter, put it into my hand, without

saying a syllable; and when I had read it we looked at each other in

silence. From a certain sparkling in his eyes, I discovered there was

more in his heart, than he cared to express with his tongue, in favour

of poor Martin; and this was precisely my own feeling, which he did not

fail to discern, by the same means of communication--‘What shall we

do (said he) to save this poor sinner from the gallows, and make him

a useful member of the commonwealth; and yet the proverb says, Save a

thief from the gallows, and he’ll cut your throat.’ I told him I really

believed Martin was capable of giving the proverb the lie; and that

I should heartily concur in any step he might take in favour of his

solicitation. We mutually resolved to deliberate upon the subject,

and, in the mean time, proceeded on our journey. The roads, having been

broken up by the heavy rains in the spring, were so rough, that although

we travelled very slowly, the jolting occasioned such pain, to my uncle,

that he was become exceedingly peevish when we arrived at this place,

which lies about eight miles from the postroad, between Wetherby and

Boroughbridge.

Harrigate-water, so celebrated for its efficacy in the scurvy and other

distempers, is supplied from a copious spring, in the hollow of a

wild common, round which, a good many houses have been built for the

convenience of the drinkers, though few of them are inhabited. Most of

the company lodge at some distance, in five separate inns, situated in

different parts of the commons, from whence they go every morning to the

well, in their own carriages. The lodgers of each inn form a distinct

society, that eat together; and there is a commodious public room, where

they breakfast in disabille, at separate tables, from eight o’clock till

eleven, as they chance or chuse to come in--Here also they drink tea in

the afternoon, and play at cards or dance in the evening. One custom,

however, prevails, which I looked upon as a solecism in politeness. The

ladies treat with tea in their turns; and even girls of sixteen are

not exempted from this shameful imposition--There is a public ball by

subscription every night at one of the houses, to which all the company

from the others are admitted by tickets; and, indeed, Harrigate treads

upon the heels of Bath, in the articles of gaiety and dissipation--with

this difference, however, that here we are more sociable and familiar.

One of the inns is already full up to the very garrets, having no less

than fifty lodgers, and as many servants. Our family does not exceed

thirty-six; and I should be sorry to see the number augmented, as our

accommodations won’t admit of much increase.

At present, the company is more agreeable than one could expect from

an accidental assemblage of persons, who are utter strangers to one

another--There seems to be a general disposition among us to maintain

good-fellowship, and promote the purposes of humanity, in favour of

those who come hither on the score of health. I see several faces which

we left at Bath, although the majority are of the Northern counties,

and many come from Scotland for the benefit of these waters--In such a

variety, there must be some originals, among whom Mrs Tabitha Bramble is

not the most inconsiderable--No place where there is such an intercourse

between the sexes, can be disagreeable to a lady of her views and

temperament--She has had some warm disputes at table, with a lame parson

from Northumberland, on the new birth, and the insignificance of moral

virtue; and her arguments have been reinforced by an old Scotch lawyer,

in a rye periwig, who, though he has lost his teeth, and the use of his

limbs, can still wag his tongue with great volubility. He has paid her

such fulsome compliments, upon her piety and learning, as seem to have

won her heart; and she, in her turn, treats him with such attention as

indicates a design upon his person; but, by all accounts, he is too

much of a fox to be inveigled into any snare that she can lay for his

affection.

We do not propose to stay long at Harrigate, though, at present, it is

our headquarters, from whence we shall make some excursions, to

visit two or three of our rich relations, who are settled in this

country.--Pray, remember me to all our friends of Jesus, and allow me to

be still

Yours affectionately, J. MELFORD HARRIGATE, June 23.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR DOCTOR,

Considering the tax we pay for turnpikes, the roads of this county

constitute a most intolerable grievance. Between Newark and Weatherby,

I have suffered more from jolting and swinging than ever I felt in the

whole course of my life, although the carriage is remarkably commodious

and well hung, and the postilions were very careful in driving. I am now

safely housed at the New Inn, at Harrigate, whither I came to satisfy

my curiosity, rather than with any view of advantage to my health; and,

truly, after having considered all the parts and particulars of the

place, I cannot account for the concourse of people one finds here, upon

any other principle but that of caprice, which seems to be the character

of our nation.

Harrigate is a wild common, bare and bleak, without tree or shrub, or

the least signs of cultivation; and the people who come to drink the

water, are crowded together in paltry inns, where the few tolerable

rooms are monopolized by the friends and favourites of the house, and

all the rest of the lodgers are obliged to put up with dirty holes,

where there is neither space, air, nor convenience. My apartment is

about ten feet square; and when the folding bed is down, there is just

room sufficient to pass between it and the fire. One might expect,

indeed, that there would be no occasion for a fire at Midsummer; but

here the climate is so backward, that an ash tree, which our landlord

has planted before my window, is just beginning to put forth its leaves;

and I am fain to have my bed warmed every night.

As for the water, which is said to have effected so many surprising

cures, I have drank it once, and the first draught has cured me of all

desire to repeat the medicine.--Some people say it smells of rotten

eggs, and others compare it to the scourings of a foul gun.--It is

generally supposed to be strongly impregnated with sulphur; and Dr Shaw,

in his book upon mineral water, says, he has seen flakes of sulphur

floating in the well--Pace tanti viri; I, for my part, have never

observed any thing like sulphur, either in or about the well, neither do

I find that any brimstone has ever been extracted from the water. As

for the smell, if I may be allowed to judge from my own organs, it is

exactly that of bilge-water; and the saline taste of it seems to declare

that it is nothing else than salt water putrified in the bowels of the

earth. I was obliged to hold my nose with one hand, while I advanced the

glass to my mouth with the other; and after I had made shift to swallow

it, my stomach could hardly retain what it had received.--The only

effects it produced were sickness, griping, and insurmountable

disgust.--I can hardly mention it without puking.--The world is

strangely misled by the affectation of singularity. I cannot help

suspecting, that this water owes its reputation in a great measure

to its being so strikingly offensive.--On the same kind of analogy, a

German doctor has introduced hemlock and other poisons, as specifics,

into the materia medica.--I am persuaded, that all the cures ascribed

to the Harrigate water, would have been as efficaciously, and infinitely

more agreeably performed, by the internal and external use of seawater.

Sure I am, this last is much less nauseous to the taste and smell, and

much more gentle in its operation as a purge, as well as more extensive

in its medical qualities.

Two days ago we went across the country to visit ‘squire Burdock, who

married a first cousin of my father, an heiress, who brought him an

estate of a thousand a-year. This gentleman is a declared opponent

of the ministry in parliament; and having an opulent fortune, piques

himself upon living in the country, and maintaining old English

hospitality--By the bye, this is a phrase very much used by the English

themselves both in words and writing; but I never heard of it out of the

island, except by way of irony and sarcasm. What the hospitality of our

forefathers has been I should be glad to see recorded, rather in the

memoirs of strangers who have visited our country, and were the proper

objects and judges of such hospitality, than in the discourse and

lucubrations of the modern English, who seem to describe it from

theory and conjecture. Certain it is, we are generally looked upon by

foreigners, as a people totally destitute of this virtue; and I

never was in any country abroad, where I did not meet with persons of

distinction, who complained of having been inhospitably used in Great

Britain. A gentleman of France, Italy, or Germany, who has entertained

and lodged an Englishman at his house, when he afterwards meets with

his guest at London, is asked to dinner at the Saracen’s-head, the

Turk’s-head, the Boar’s-head, or the Bear, eats raw beef and butter,

drinks execrable port, and is allowed to pay his share of the reckoning.

But to return from this digression, which my feeling for the honour of

my country obliged me to make--our Yorkshire cousin has been a mighty

fox-hunter before the Lord; but now he is too fat and unwieldy to leap

ditches and five-bar gates; nevertheless, he still keeps a pack

of hounds, which are well exercised; and his huntsman every night

entertains him with the adventures of the day’s chace, which he recites

in a tone and terms that are extremely curious and significant. In the

mean time, his broad brawn is scratched by one of his grooms.--This

fellow, it seems, having no inclination to curry any beast out of the

stable, was at great pains to scollop his nails in such a manner that

the blood followed at every stroke.--He was in hopes that he would

be dismissed from this disagreeable office, but the event turned out

contrary to his expectation.--His master declared he was the best

scratcher in the family; and now he will not suffer any other servant to

draw a nail upon his carcase.

The ‘squire’s lady is very proud, without being stiff or inaccessible.

She receives even her inferiors in point of fortune with a kind of

arrogant civility; but then she thinks she has a right to treat them

with the most ungracious freedoms of speech, and never fails to let

them know she is sensible of her own superior affluence. In a word,

she speaks well of no living soul, and has not one single friend in

the world. Her husband hates her mortally; but, although the brute is

sometimes so very powerful in him that he will have his own way, he

generally truckles to her dominion, and dreads, like a school-boy, the

lash of her tongue. On the other hand, she is afraid of provoking him

too far, lest he should make some desperate effort to shake off her

yoke.--She, therefore, acquiesces in the proofs he daily gives of his

attachment to the liberty of an English freeholder, by saying and doing,

at his own table, whatever gratifies the brutality of his disposition,

or contributes to the ease of his person. The house, though large, is

neither elegant nor comfortable.--It looks like a great inn, crowded

with travellers, who dine at the landlord’s ordinary, where there is

a great profusion of victuals and drink, but mine host seems to be

misplaced; and I would rather dine upon filberts with a hermit, than

feed upon venison with a hog. The footmen might be aptly compared to the

waiters of a tavern, if they were more serviceable and less rapacious;

but they are generally insolent and inattentive, and so greedy, that, I

think, I can dine better, and for less expence, at the Star and Garter

in Pall mall, than at our cousin’s castle in Yorkshire. The ‘squire is

not only accommodated with a wife, but he is also blessed with an only

son, about two and twenty, just returned from Italy, a complete fidler

and dillettante; and he slips no opportunity of manifesting the most

perfect contempt for his own father.

When we arrived, there was a family of foreigners at the house, on a

visit to this virtuoso, with whom they had been acquainted at the Spa;

it was the count de Melville, with his lady, on their way to Scotland.

Mr Burdock had met with an accident, in consequence of which both the

count and I would have retired but the young gentleman and his mother

insisted upon our staying dinner; and their serenity seemed to be

so little ruffled by what had happened, that we complied with their

invitation. The ‘squire had been brought home over night in his

post-chaise, so terribly belaboured about the pate, that he seemed to

be in a state of stupefaction, and had ever since remained speechless. A

country apothecary, called Grieve, who lived in a neighbouring village,

having been called to his assistance, had let him blood, and applied a

poultice to his head, declaring, that he had no fever, nor any other bad

symptom but the loss of speech, if he really had lost that faculty.

But the young ‘squire said this practitioner was an ignorantaccio, that

there was a fracture in the cranium, and that there was a necessity for

having him trepanned without loss of time. His mother, espousing this

opinion, had sent an express to York for a surgeon to perform the

operation, and he was already come with his ‘prentice and instruments.

Having examined the patient’s head, he began to prepare his dressings;

though Grieve still retained his first opinion that there was no

fracture, and was the more confirmed in it as the ‘squire had passed the

night in profound sleep, uninterrupted by any catching or convulsion.

The York surgeon said he could not tell whether there was a fracture,

until he should take off the scalp; but, at any rate, the operation

might be of service in giving vent to any blood that might be

extravasated, either above or below the dura mater. The lady and her son

were clear for trying the experiment; and Grieve was dismissed with

some marks of contempt, which, perhaps, he owed to the plainness of his

appearance. He seemed to be about the middle age, wore his own black

hair without any sort of dressing; by his garb, one would have taken

him for a quaker, but he had none of the stiffness of that sect, on the

contrary he was very submissive, respectful, and remarkably taciturn.

Leaving the ladies in an apartment by themselves, we adjourned to the

patient’s chamber, where the dressings and instruments were displayed

in order upon a pewter dish. The operator, laying aside his coat and

periwig, equipped himself with a night-cap, apron, and sleeves, while

his ‘prentice and footman, seizing the ‘squire’s head, began to place

it in a proper posture.--But mark what followed.--The patient, bolting

upright in the bed, collared each of these assistants with the grasp of

Hercules, exclaiming, in a bellowing tone, ‘I ha’n’t lived so long in

Yorkshire to be trepanned by such vermin as you;’ and leaping on the

floor, put on his breeches quietly, to the astonishment of us all. The

Surgeon still insisted upon the operation, alleging it was now plain

that the brain was injured, and desiring the servants put him into

bed again; but nobody would venture to execute his orders, or even to

interpose: when the ‘squire turned him and his assistants out of doors,

and threw his apparatus out at the window. Having thus asserted his

prerogative, and put on his cloaths with the help of a valet, the count,

with my nephew and me, were introduced by his son, and received with his

usual stile of rustic civility; then turning to signor Macaroni, with a

sarcastic grin, ‘I tell thee what, Dick (said he), a man’s scull is not

to be bored every time his head is broken; and I’ll convince thee and

thy mother, that I know as many tricks as e’er an old fox in the West

Riding.’

We afterwards understood he had quarrelled at a public house with an

exciseman, whom he challenged to a bout at single stick, in which he had

been worsted; and that the shame of this defeat had tied up his tongue.

As for madam, she had shewn no concern for his disaster, and now heard

of his recovery without emotion--She had taken some little notice of

my sister and niece, though rather with a view to indulge her own

petulance, than out of any sentiment of regard to our family.--She said

Liddy was a fright, and ordered her woman to adjust her head before

dinner; but she would not meddle with Tabby, whose spirit, she soon

perceived, was not to be irritated with impunity. At table, she

acknowledged me so far as to say she had heard of my father; though

she hinted, that he had disobliged her family by making a poor match

in Wales. She was disagreeably familiar in her enquiries about our

circumstances; and asked, if I intended to bring up my nephew to the

law. I told her, that, as he had an independent fortune, he should

follow no profession but that of a country gentleman; and that I was not

without hopes of procuring for him a seat in parliament--‘Pray cousin

(said she), what may his fortune be?’ When I answered, that, with what

I should be able to give him, he would have better than two thousand a

year, she replied, with a disdainful toss of her head, that it would

be impossible for him to preserve his independence on such a paultry

provision.

Not a little nettled at this arrogant remark, I told her, I had the

honour to sit in parliament with her father, when he had little more

than half that income; and I believed there was not a more independent

and incorruptible member in the house. ‘Ay; but times are changed (cried

the ‘squire)--Country gentlemen now-a-days live after another fashion.

My table alone stands me in a cool thousand a quarter, though I raise

my own stock, import my own liquors, and have every thing at the first

hand.--True it is, I keep open house, and receive all comers, for the

honour of Old England.’ ‘If that be the case (said I), ‘tis a wonder you

can maintain it at so small an expence; but every private gentleman is

not expected to keep a caravanserai for the accommodation of travellers:

indeed, if every individual lived in the same stile, you would not have

such a number of guests at your table, of consequence your hospitality

would not shine so bright for the glory of the West Riding.’ The

young ‘squire, tickled by this ironical observation, exclaimed, ‘O che

burla!’--his mother eyed me in silence with a supercilious air; and

the father of the feast, taking a bumper of October, ‘My service to you,

cousin Bramble (said he), I have always heard there was something keen

and biting in the air of the Welch mountains.’

I was much pleased with the count de Melville, who is sensible, easy,

and polite; and the countess is the most amiable woman I ever beheld.

In the afternoon they took leave of their entertainers, and the young

gentleman, mounting his horse, undertook to conduct their coach through

the park, while one of their servants rode round to give notice to the

rest, whom they had left at a public house on the road. The moment

their backs were turned, the censorious daemon took possession of our

Yorkshire landlady and our sister Tabitha--The former observed, that

the countess was a good sort of a body, but totally ignorant of good

breeding, consequently aukward in her address. The squire said, he did

not pretend to the breeding of any thing but colts; but that the jade

would be very handsome, if she was a little more in flesh. ‘Handsome!

(cried Tabby) she has indeed a pair of black eyes without any meaning;

but then there is not a good feature in her face.’ ‘I know not what you

call good features in Wales (replied our landlord); but they’ll pass in

Yorkshire.’ Then turning to Liddy, he added, ‘What say you, my pretty

Redstreak?--what is your opinion of the countess?’ ‘I think (cried

Liddy, with great emotion), she’s an angel.’ Tabby chid her for talking

with such freedom in company; and the lady of the house said, in a

contemptuous tone, she supposed miss had been brought up at some country

boarding-school.

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by the young gentleman,

who galloped into the yard all aghast, exclaiming, that the coach was

attacked by a great number of highwaymen. My nephew and I rushed out,

found his own and his servant’s horse ready saddled in the stable, with

pistols in the caps--We mounted instantly, ordering Clinker and Dutton

to follow with all possible expedition; but notwithstanding all the

speed we could make, the action was over before we arrived, and the

count with his lady, safe lodged at the house of Grieve, who had

signalized himself in a very remarkable manner on this occasion. At the

turning of a lane, that led to the village where the count’s servants

remained, a couple of robbers a-horseback suddenly appeared, with their

pistols advanced: one kept the coachman in awe, and the other demanded

the count’s money, while the young ‘squire went off at full speed,

without ever casting a look behind. The count desiring the thief to

withdraw his pistol, as the lady was in great terror, delivered his

purse without making the least resistance; but not satisfied with this

booty, which was pretty considerable, the rascal insisted upon rifling

her of her car-rings and necklace, and the countess screamed with

affright. Her husband, exasperated at the violence with which she was

threatened, wrested the pistol out of the fellow’s hand, and turning it

upon him, snapped it in his face; but the robber knowing there was no

charge in it, drew another from his bosom, and in all probability would

have killed him on the spot, had not his life been saved by a wonderful

interposition. Grieve, the apothecary, chancing to pass that very

instant, ran up to the coach, and with a crab-stick, which was all the

weapon he had, brought the fellow to the ground with the first blow;

then seizing his pistol, presented it at his colleague, who fired his

piece at random, and fled without further opposition. The other was

secured by the assistance of the count and the coachman; and his legs

being tied under the belly of his own horse, Grieve conducted him to

the village, whither also the carriage proceeded. It was with great

difficulty the countess could be kept from swooning; but at last she was

happily conveyed to the house of the apothecary, who went into the shop

to prepare some drops for her, while his wife and daughter administered

to her in another apartment.

I found the count standing in the kitchen with the parson of the parish,

and expressing much impatience to see his protector, whom as yet he had

scarce found time to thank for the essential service he had done him

and the countess.--The daughter passing at the same time with a glass of

water, monsieur de Melville could not help taking notice of her figure,

which was strikingly engaging.--‘Ay (said the parson), she is the

prettiest girl, and the best girl in all my parish: and if I could give

my son an estate of ten thousand a year, he should have my consent to

lay it at her feet. If Mr Grieve had been as solicitious about getting

money, as he has been in performing all the duties of a primitive

Christian, he would not have hung so long upon his hands.’ ‘What is her

name?’ said I. ‘Sixteen years ago (answered the vicar) I christened her

by the names of Seraphina Melvilia.’ ‘Ha! what! how! (cried the count

eagerly) sure, you said Seraphina Melvilia.’ ‘I did (said he); Mr Grieve

told me those were the names of two noble persons abroad, to whom he had

been obliged for more than life.’

The count, without speaking another syllable, rushed into the parlour,

crying, ‘This is your god-daughter, my dear.’ Mrs Grieve, then seizing

the countess by the hand, exclaimed with great agitation, ‘O madam! O

sir!--I am--I am your poor Elinor.--This is my Seraphina Melvilia O

child! these are the count and countess of Melville, the generous the

glorious benefactors of thy once unhappy parents.’

The countess rising from her scat threw her arms about the neck of the

amiable Seraphina, and clasped her to her breast with great tenderness,

while she herself was embraced by the weeping mother. This moving scene

was completed by the entrance of Grieve himself, who falling on his

knees before the count, ‘Behold (said he) a penitent, who at length

can look upon his patron without shrinking.’ ‘Ah, Ferdinand! (cried he,

raising and folding him in his arms) the playfellow of my infancy--the

companion of my youth!--Is it to you then I am indebted for my

life?’ ‘Heaven has heard my prayer (said the other), and given me an

opportunity to prove myself not altogether unworthy of your clemency and

protection.’ He then kissed the hand of the countess, while monsieur

de Melville saluted his wife and lovely daughter, and all of us were

greatly affected by this pathetic recognition.

In a word, Grieve was no other than Ferdinand count Fathom, whose

adventures were printed many years ago. Being a sincere convert to

virtue, he had changed his name, that he might elude the enquiries of

the count, whose generous allowance he determined to forego, that he

might have no dependence but upon his own industry and moderation. He

had accordingly settled in this village as a practitioner in surgery and

physic, and for some years wrestled with all the miseries of indigence,

which, however, he and his wife had borne with the most exemplary

resignation. At length, by dint of unwearied attention to the duties of

his profession, which he exercised with equal humanity and success, he

had acquired tolerable share of business among the farmers and common

people, which enabled him to live in a decent manner. He had been scarce

ever seen to smile; was unaffectedly pious; and all the time he could

spare from the avocations of his employment, he spent in educating

his daughter, and in studying for his own improvement. In short, the

adventurer Fathom was, under the name of Grieve, universally respected

among the commonalty of this district, as a prodigy of learning and

virtue. These particulars I learned from the vicar, when we quitted the

room, that they might be under no restraint in their mutual effusions.

I make no doubt that Grieve will be pressed to leave off business,

and re-unite himself to the count’s family; and as the countess seemed

extremely fond of his daughter, she will, in all probability, insist

upon Seraphina’s accompanying her to Scotland.

Having paid our compliments to these noble persons, we returned to the

‘squire’s, where we expected an invitation to pass the night, which was

wet and raw; but it seems, ‘squire Burdock’s hospitality reached not so

far for the honour of Yorkshire; we therefore departed in the evening,

and lay at an inn, where I caught cold.

In hope of riding it down before it could take fast hold on my

constitution, I resolved to visit another relation, one Mr Pimpernel,

who lived about a dozen miles from the place where we lodged. Pimpernel

being the youngest of four sons, was bred an attorney at Furnival’s inn;

but all his elder brothers dying, he got himself called to the bar for

the honour of his family, and soon after this preferment, succeeded to

his father’s estate which was very considerable. He carried home with

him all the knavish chicanery of the lowest pettifogger, together with

a wife whom he had purchased of a drayman for twenty pounds; and he soon

found means to obtain a dedimus as an acting justice of peace. He is not

only a sordid miser in his disposition, but his avarice is mingled

with a spirit of despotism, which is truly diabolical.--He is a brutal

husband, an unnatural parent, a harsh master, an oppressive landlord, a

litigious neighbour, and a partial magistrate. Friends he has none;

and in point of hospitality and good breeding, our cousin Burdock is a

prince in comparison of this ungracious miscreant, whose house is the

lively representation of a gaol. Our reception was suitable to the

character I have sketched. Had it depended upon the wife, we should have

been kindly treated.--She is really a good sort of a woman, in spite

of her low original, and well respected in the country; but she has not

interest enough in her own house to command a draught of table beer,

far less to bestow any kind of education on her children, who run about,

like tagged colts, in a state of nature.--Pox on him! he is such a dirty

fellow, that I have not patience to prosecute the subject.

By that time we reached Harrigate, I began to be visited by certain

rheumatic symptoms. The Scotch lawyer, Mr Micklewhimmen, recommended a

hot bath of these waters so earnestly, that I was over-persuaded to try

the experiment.--He had used it often with success and always stayed an

hour in the bath, which was a tub filled with Harrigate water, heated

for the purpose. If I could hardly bear the smell of a single tumbler

when cold, you may guess how my nose was regaled by the streams arising

from a hot bath of the same fluid. At night, I was conducted into a dark

hole on the ground floor, where the tub smoaked and stunk like the pot

of Acheron, in one corner, and in another stood a dirty bed provided

with thick blankets, in which I was to sweat after coming out of the

bath. My heart seemed to die within me when I entered this dismal

bagnio, and found my brain assaulted by such insufferable effluvia. I

cursed Micklewhimmen for not considering that my organs were formed on

this side of the Tweed; but being ashamed to recoil upon the threshold,

I submitted to the process.

After having endured all but real suffocation for above a quarter of an

hour in the tub, I was moved to the bed and wrapped in blankets.--There

I lay a full hour panting with intolerable heat; but not the least

moisture appearing on my skin, I was carried to my own chamber, and

passed the night without closing an eye, in such a flutter of spirits as

rendered me the most miserable wretch in being. I should certainly

have run distracted, if the rarefaction of my blood, occasioned by

that Stygian bath, had not burst the vessels, and produced a violent

haemorrhage, which, though dreadful and alarming, removed the horrible

disquiet--I lost two pounds of blood, and more, on this occasion; and

find myself still weak and languid; but, I believe, a little exercise

will forward my recovery, and therefore I am resolved to set out

to-morrow for York, in my way to Scarborough, where I propose to brace

up my fibres by sea-bathing, which, I know, is one of your favourite

specificks. There is, however, one disease, for which you have found as

yet no specific, and that is old age, of which this tedious unconnected

epistle is an infallible symptom: what, therefore, cannot be cured, must

be endured, by you, as well as by

Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE HARRIGATE, June 26.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR KNIGHT,

The manner of living at Harrigate was so agreeable to my disposition,

that I left the place with some regret--Our aunt Tabby would have

probably made some objection to our departing so soon, had not an

accident embroiled her with Mr Micklewhimmen, the Scotch advocate,

on whose heart she had been practising, from the second day after our

arrival--That original, though seemingly precluded from the use of

his limbs, had turned his genius to good account--In short, by dint of

groaning, and whining, he had excited the compassion of the company so

effectually, that an old lady, who occupied the very best apartment in

the house, gave it up for his ease and convenience. When his man led him

into the Long Room, all the females were immediately in commotion--One

set an elbow-chair; another shook up the cushion; a third brought a

stool; and a fourth a pillow, for the accommodation of his feet--

Two ladies (of whom Tabby was always one) supported him into the

dining-room, and placed him properly at the table; and his taste was

indulged with a succession of delicacies, culled by their fair hands.

All this attention he repaid with a profusion of compliments and

benedictions, which were not the less agreeable for being delivered in

the Scottish dialect. As for Mrs Tabitha, his respects were particularly

addressed to her, and he did not fail to mingle them with religious

reflections, touching free grace, knowing her bias to methodism, which

he also professed upon a calvinistical model.

For my part, I could not help thinking this lawyer was not such an

invalid as he pretended to be. I observed he ate very heartily three

times a day; and though his bottle was marked stomachic tincture, he

had recourse to it so often, and seemed to swallow it with such peculiar

relish, that I suspected it was not compounded in the apothecary’s shop,

or the chemist’s laboratory. One day, while he was earnest in discourse

with Mrs Tabitha, and his servant had gone out on some occasion or

other, I dexterously exchanged the labels, and situation of his bottle

and mine; and having tasted his tincture, found it was excellent claret.

I forthwith handed it about me to some of my neighbours, and it was

quite emptied before Mr Micklewhimmen had occasion to repeat his

draught. At length, turning about, he took hold of my bottle, instead of

his own, and, filling a large glass, drank to the health of Mrs Tabitha.

It had scarce touched his lips, when he perceived the change which had

been put upon him, and was at first a little out of countenance. He

seemed to retire within himself, in order to deliberate, and in half a

minute his resolution was taken; addressing himself to our quarter, ‘I

give the gentleman credit for his wit (said he); it was a gude practical

joke; but sometimes hi joci in seria ducunt mala--I hope for his own

sake he has na drank all the liccor; for it was a vara poorful infusion

of jallap in Bourdeaux wine; at its possable he may ha ta’en sic a dose

as will produce a terrible catastrophe in his ain booels--’

By far the greater part of the contents had fallen to the share of a

young clothier from Leeds, who had come to make a figure at Harrigate,

and was, in effect a great coxcomb in his way. It was with a view to

laugh at his fellow-guests, as well as to mortify the lawyer, that he

had emptied the bottle, when it came to his turn, and he had laughed

accordingly: but now his mirth gave way to his apprehension--He began

to spit, to make wry faces, and writhe himself into various

contorsions--‘Damn the stuff! (cried he) I thought it had a villainous

twang--pah! He that would cozen a Scot, mun get oope betimes, and take

Old Scratch for his counsellor--’ ‘In troth mester what d’ye ca’um

(replied the lawyer), your wit has run you into a filthy puddle--I’m

truly consarned for your waeful case--The best advice I can give you, in

sic a delemma, is to send an express to Rippon for doctor Waugh, without

delay, and, in the mean time, swallow all the oil and butter you can

find in the hoose, to defend your poor stomach and intastines from the

villication of the particles of the jallap, which is vara violent, even

when taken in moderation.’

The poor clothier’s torments had already begun: he retired, roaring with

pain, to his own chamber; the oil was swallowed, and the doctor

sent for; but before he arrived, the miserable patient had made such

discharges upwards and downwards, that nothing remained to give him

further offence; and this double evacuation, was produced by imagination

alone; for what he had drank was genuine wine of Bourdeaux, which the

lawyer had brought from Scotland for his own private use. The clothier,

finding the joke turn out so expensive and disagreeable, quitted the

house next morning, leaving the triumph to Micklewhimmen, who enjoyed it

internally without any outward signs of exultation--on the contrary, he

affected to pity the young man for what he had suffered; and acquired

fresh credit from this shew of moderation.

It was about the middle of the night, which succeeded this adventure,

that the vent of the kitchen chimney being foul, the soot took fire, and

the alarm was given in a dreadful manner. Every body leaped naked out

of bed, and in a minute the whole house was filled with cries and

confusion--There was two stairs in the house, and to these we naturally

ran; but they were both so blocked up, by the people pressing one upon

another, that it seemed impossible to pass, without throwing down

and trampling upon the women. In the midst of this anarchy, Mr

Micklewhimmen, with a leathern portmanteau on his back, came running

as nimble as a buck along the passage; and Tabby in her underpetticoat,

endeavouring to hook him under the arm, that she might escape through

his protection, he very fairly pushed her down, crying, ‘Na, na, gude

faith, charity begins at hame!’ Without paying the least respect to the

shrieks and intreaties of his female friends, he charged through the

midst of the crowd, overturning every thing that opposed him; and

actually fought his way to the bottom of the Stair-case--By this time

Clinker had found a ladder by which he entered the window of my uncle’s

chamber, where our family was assembled, and proposed that we should

make our exit successively by that conveyance. The ‘squire exhorted his

sister to begin the descent; but, before she could resolve, her woman,

Mrs Winifred Jenkins, in a transport of terror, threw herself out at the

window upon the ladder, while Humphry dropped upon the ground, that

he might receive her in her descent--This maiden was just as she had

started out of bed, the moon shone very bright, and a fresh breeze of

wind blowing, none of Mrs Winifred’s beauties could possibly escape the

view of the fortunate Clinker, whose heart was not able to withstand the

united force of so many charms; at least I am much mistaken, if he has

not been her humble slave from that moment--He received her in his arms,

and, giving her his coat to protect her from the weather, ascended again

with admirable dexterity.

At that instant, the landlord of the house called out with an audible

voice, that the fire was extinguished, and the ladies had nothing

further to fear: this was a welcome note to the audience, and produced

an immediate effect; the shrieking ceased, and a confused sound of

expostulation ensued. I conducted Mrs Tabitha and my sister to their own

chamber, where Liddy fainted away; but was soon brought to herself.

Then I went to offer my services to the other ladies, who might want

assistance--They were all scudding through the passage to their several

apartments; and as the thoroughfair was lighted by two lamps, I had a

pretty good observation of them in their transit; but as most of them

were naked to the smock, and all their heads shrowded in huge nightcaps,

I could not distinguish one face from another, though I recognized

some of their voices--These were generally plaintive; some wept, some

scolded, and some prayed--I lifted up one poor old gentlewoman, who had

been overturned and sore bruised by a multitude of feet; and this

was also the case with the lame person from Northumberland, whom

Micklewhimmen had in his passage overthrown, though not with impunity,

for the cripple, in falling, gave him such a good pelt on the head with

his crutch, that the blood followed.

As for this lawyer, he waited below till the hurly burly was over, and

then stole softly to his own chamber, from whence he did not venture to

make a second sally till eleven in the forenoon, when he was led into

the Public Room, by his own servant and another assistant, groaning most

woefully, with a bloody napkin round his head. But things were greatly

altered--The selfish brutality of his behaviour on the stairs had

steeled their hearts against all his arts and address--Not a soul

offered to accommodate him with a chair, cushion, or footstool; so that

he was obliged to sit down on a hard bench--In that position, he looked

around with a rueful aspect, and, bowing very low, said in a

whining tone, ‘Your most humble servant, ladies--Fire is a dreadful

calamity’--‘Fire purifies gold, and it ties friendship,’ cried Mrs

Tabitha, bridling. ‘Yea, madam (replied Micklewhimmen); and it trieth

discretion also’--‘If discretion consists in forsaking a friend in

adversity, you are eminently possessed of that virtue’ (resumed our

aunt).--‘Na, madam (rejoined the advocate), well I wot, I cannot claim

any merit from the mode of my retreat--Ye’ll please to observe, ladies,

there are twa independent principles that actuate our nature--One is

instinct, which we have in common with the brute creation, and the other

is reason--Noo, in certain great emergencies, when the faculty of reason

is suspended, instinct taks the lead, and when this predominates, having

no affinity with reason, it pays no sort of regard to its connections;

it only operates for the preservation of the individual, and that by the

most expeditious and effectual means; therefore, begging your pardon,

ladies, I’m no accountable in foro conscientioe for what I did, while

under the influence of this irresistible pooer.’

Here my uncle interposing, ‘I should be glad to know (said he), whether

it was instinct that prompted you to retreat with bag and baggage; for,

I think, you had a portmanteau on your shoulder’ The lawyer answered,

without hesitation, ‘Gif I might tell my mind freely, withoot incuring

the suspicion of presumption, I should think it was something superior

to either reason or instinct which suggested that measure, and this on

a twafold accoont: in the first place, the portmanteau contained the

writings of a worthy nobleman’s estate; and their being burnt would have

occasioned a loss that could not be repaired; secondly, my good angel

seems to have laid the portmanteau on my shoulders, by way of defence,

to sustain the violence of a most inhuman blow, from the crutch of a

reverend clergyman, which, even in spite of that medium, hath wounded

me sorely, even unto the pericranium.’ ‘By your own doctrine (cried the

parson, who chanced to be present), I am not accountable for the blow,

which was the effect of instinct.’ ‘I crave your pardon, reverend sir

(said the other), instinct never acts but for the preservation of the

individual; but your preservation was out of the case--you had already

received the damage, and therefore the blow must be imputed to revenge,

which is a sinful passion, that ill becomes any Christian, especially a

protestant divine; and let me tell you, most reverend doctor, gin I had

a mind to plea, the law would hauld my libel relevant.’ ‘Why, the damage

is pretty equal on both sides (cried the parson); your head is broke,

and my crutch is snapt in the middle. Now, if you will repair the one, I

will be at the expence of curing the other.’

This sally raised the laugh against Micklewhimmen, who began to look

grave; when my uncle, in order to change the discourse, observed,

that instinct had been very kind to him in another respect; for it had

restored to him the use of his limbs, which, in his exit, he had moved

with surprising agility.--He replied, that it was the nature of fear to

brace up the nerves; and mentioned some surprising feats of strength

and activity performed by persons under the impulse of terror; but he

complained that in his own particular, the effects had ceased when the

cause was taken away--The ‘squire said, he would lay a tea-drinking on

his head, that he should dance a Scotch measure, without making a false

step; and the advocate grinning, called for the piper--A fidler being

at hand, this original started up, with his bloody napkin over his black

tye-periwig, and acquitted himself in such a manner as excited the mirth

of the whole company; but he could not regain the good graces of Mrs

Tabby, who did not understand the principle of instinct; and the lawyer

did not think it worth his while to proceed to further demonstration.

From Harrigate, we came hither, by the way of York, and here we shall

tarry some days, as my uncle and Tabitha are both resolved to make use

of the waters. Scarborough, though a paltry town, is romantic from its

situation along a cliff that over-hangs the sea. The harbour is formed

by a small elbow of land that runs out as a natural mole, directly

opposite to the town; and on that side is the castle, which stands very

high, of considerable extent, and, before the invention of gun-powder,

was counted impregnable. At the other end of Scarborough are two public

rooms for the use of the company, who resort to this place in the summer

to drink the waters and bathe in the sea; and the diversions are pretty

much on the same footing here as at Bath. The Spa is a little way beyond

the town, on this side, under a cliff, within a few paces of the sea,

and thither the drinkers go every morning in dishabille; but the descent

is by a great number of steps, which invalids find very inconvenient.

Betwixt the well and the harbour, the bathing machines are ranged along

the beach, with all their proper utensils and attendants. You have never

seen one of these machines--Image to yourself a small, snug, wooden

chamber, fixed upon a wheel-carriage, having a door at each end, and on

each side a little window above, a bench below--The bather, ascending

into this apartment by wooden steps, shuts himself in, and begins to

undress, while the attendant yokes a horse to the end next the sea, and

draws the carriage forwards, till the surface of the water is on a level

with the floor of the dressing-room, then he moves and fixes the horse

to the other end--The person within being stripped, opens the door to

the sea-ward, where he finds the guide ready, and plunges headlong into

the water--After having bathed, he re-ascends into the apartment, by the

steps which had been shifted for that purpose, and puts on his clothes

at his leisure, while the carriage is drawn back again upon the dry

land; so that he has nothing further to do, but to open the door, and

come down as he went up--Should he be so weak or ill as to require

a servant to put off and on his clothes, there is room enough in the

apartment for half a dozen people. The guides who attend the ladies in

the water, are of their own sex, and they and the female bathers have

a dress of flannel for the sea; nay, they are provided with other

conveniences for the support of decorum. A certain number of the

machines are fitted with tilts, that project from the sea-ward ends

of them, so as to screen the bathers from the view of all persons

whatsoever--The beach is admirably adapted for this practice, the

descent being gently gradual, and the sand soft as velvet; but then the

machines can be used only at a certain time of the tide, which varies

every day; so that sometimes the bathers are obliged to rise very early

in the morning--For my part, I love swimming as an exercise, and

can enjoy it at all times of the tide, without the formality of an

apparatus--You and I have often plunged together into the Isis; but

the sea is a much more noble bath, for health as well as pleasure. You

cannot conceive what a flow of spirits it gives, and how it braces every

sinew of the human frame. Were I to enumerate half the diseases which

are every day cured by sea-bathing, you might justly say you had

received a treatise, instead of a letter, from

Your affectionate friend and servant, J. MELFORD SCARBOROUGH, July 1.

To Dr LEWIS.

I have not found all the benefit I expected at Scarborough, where I have

been these eight days--From Harrigate we came hither by the way of York,

where we stayed only one day to visit the Castle, the Minster and

the Assembly-room. The first, which was heretofore a fortress, is now

converted to a prison, and is the best, in all respects, I ever saw,

at home or abroad--It stands in a high situation, extremely well

ventilated; and has a spacious area within the walls, for the health and

convenience of all the prisoners except those whom it is necessary to

secure in close confinement. Even these last have all the comforts that

the nature of their situation can admit. Here the assizes are held, in a

range of buildings erected for that purpose.

As for the Minster, I know not how to distinguish it, except by its

great size and the height of its spire, from those other ancient

churches in different parts of the kingdom, which used to be called

monuments of Gothic architecture; but it is now agreed, that this stile

is Saracen rather than Gothic; and, I suppose, it was first imported

into England from Spain, great part of which was under the dominion of

the Moors. Those British architects who adopted this stile, don’t seem

to have considered the propriety of their adoption. The climate of the

country, possessed by the Moors or Saracens, both in Africa and Spain,

was so exceedingly hot and dry, that those who built places of worship

for the multitude, employed their talents in contriving edifices that

should be cool; and, for this purpose, nothing could be better adopted

than those buildings, vast, narrow, dark, and lofty, impervious to the

sun-beams, and having little communication with the scorched external

atmosphere; but ever affording a refreshing coolness, like subterranean

cellars in the heats of summer, or natural caverns in the bowels of huge

mountains. But nothing could be more preposterous, than to imitate such

a mode of architecture in a country like England, where the climate

is cold, and the air eternally loaded with vapours; and where, of

consequence, the builder’s intention should be to keep the people dry

and warm--For my part, I never entered the Abbey church at Bath but

once, and the moment I stept over the threshold, I found myself chilled

to the very marrow of my bones. When we consider, that in our churches,

in general, we breathe a gross stagnated air, surcharged with damps

from vaults, tombs, and charnel-houses, may we not term them so many

magazines of rheums, created for the benefit of the medical faculty? and

safely aver, that more bodies are lost, than souls saved, by going to

church, in the winter especially, which may be said to engross eight

months in the year. I should be glad to know, what offence it would give

to tender consciences, if the house of God was made more comfortable,

or less dangerous to the health of valetudinarians; and whether it

would not be an encouragement to piety, as well as the salvation of many

lives, if the place of worship was well floored, wainscotted, warmed,

and ventilated, and its area kept sacred from the pollution of the

dead. The practice of burying in churches was the effect of ignorant

superstition, influenced by knavish priests, who pretended that the

devil could have no power over the defunct if he was interred in holy

ground; and this indeed, is the only reason that can be given for

consecrating all cemeteries, even at this day.

The external appearance of an old cathedral cannot be but displeasing to

the eye of every man, who has any idea of propriety or proportion, even

though he may be ignorant of architecture as a science; and the long

slender spire puts one in mind of a criminal impaled with a sharp stake

rising up through his shoulder--These towers, or steeples, were likewise

borrowed from the Mahometans; who, having no bells, used such minarets

for the purpose of calling the people to prayers--They may be of further

use, however, for making observations and signals; but I would vote for

their being distinct from the body of the church, because they serve

only to make the pile more barbarous, or Saracenical.

There is nothing of this Arabic architecture in the Assembly Room, which

seems to me to have been built upon a design of Palladio, and might

be converted into an elegant place of worship; but it is indifferently

contrived for that sort of idolatry which is performed in it at present:

the grandeur of the fane gives a diminutive effect to the little painted

divinities that are adorned in it, and the company, on a ball-night,

must look like an assembly of fantastic fairies, revelling by moonlight

among the columns of a Grecian temple.

Scarborough seems to be falling off, in point of reputation. All these

places (Bath excepted) have their vogue, and then the fashion changes.

I am persuaded, there are fifty spaws in England as efficacious and

salutary as that of Scarborough, though they have not yet risen to fame;

and, perhaps, never will, unless some medical encomiast should find an

interest in displaying their virtues to the public view--Be that as it

may, recourse will always be had to this place for the convenience of

sea bathing, while this practice prevails; but it were to be wished,

they would make the beach more accessible to invalids.

I have here met with my old acquaintance, H[ewet]t, whom you have often

heard me mention as one of the most original characters upon earth--I

first knew him at Venice, and afterwards saw him in different parts of

Italy, where he was well known by the nick-name of Cavallo Bianco,

from his appearing always mounted on a pale horse, like Death in the

Revelations. You must remember the account I once gave you of a curious

dispute he had at Constantinople, with a couple of Turks, in defence of

the Christian religion; a dispute from which he acquired the epithet

of Demonstrator--The truth is, H--owns no religion but that of nature;

but, on this occasion, he was stimulated to shew his parts, for the

honour of his country--Some years ago, being in the Campidoglio at Rome,

he made up to the bust of Jupiter, and, bowing very low, exclaimed in

the Italian language, ‘I hope, sir, if ever you get your head above

water again, you will remember that I paid my respects to you in your

adversity.’ This sally was reported to the cardinal Camerlengo, and by

him laid before pope Benedict XIV, who could not help laughing at the

extravagance of the address, and said to the cardinal, ‘Those English

heretics think they have a right to go to the devil in their own way.’

Indeed H-- was the only Englishman I ever knew, who had resolution

enough to live in his own way, in the midst of foreigners; for, neither

in dress, diet, customs, or conversation, did he deviate one tittle from

the manner in which he had been brought up. About twelve years ago, he

began a Giro or circuit, which he thus performed--At Naples, where

he fixed his headquarters, he embarked for Marseilles, from whence he

travelled with a Voiturin to Antibes--There he took his passage to

Genoa and Lerici; from which last place he proceeded, by the way of

Cambratina, to Pisa and Florence--After having halted some time in

this metropolis, he set out with a Vetturino for Rome, where he reposed

himself a few weeks, and then continued his route for Naples, in order

to wait for the next opportunity of embarkation--After having twelve

times described this circle, he lately flew off at a tangent to visit

some trees at his country-house in England, which he had planted above

twenty years ago, after the plan of the double colonnade in the piazza

of St Peter’s at Rome--He came hither to Scarborough, to pay his

respects to his noble friend and former pupil, the M-- of G--, and,

forgetting that he is now turned of seventy, sacrificed so liberally to

Bacchus, that next day he was seized with a fit of the apoplexy, which

has a little impaired his memory; but he retains all the oddity of

his character in perfection, and is going back to Italy by the way of

Geneva, that he may have a conference with his friend Voltaire, about

giving the last blow to the Christian superstition--He intends to take

shipping here for Holland or Hamburgh; for it is a matter of great

indifference to him at what part of the continent he first lands.

When he was going abroad the last time, he took his passage in a ship

bound for Leghorn, and his baggage was actually embarked. In going down

the river by water, he was by mistake put on board of another

vessel under sail; and, upon inquiry understood she was bound to

Petersburgh--‘Petersburgh,--Petersburgh (said he) I don’t care if I go

along with you.’ He forthwith struck a bargain with the captain; bought

a couple of shirts of the mate, and was safe conveyed to the court of

Muscovy, from whence he travelled by land to receive his baggage at

Leghorn--He is now more likely than ever to execute a whim of the same

nature; and I will hold any wager, that as he cannot be supposed to live

much longer, according to the course of nature, his exit will be as odd

as his life has been extravagant.

[This gentleman crossed the sea to France, visited and conferred with

Mr de Voltaire at Fernay, resumed his old circuit at Genoa, and died in

1767, at the house of Vanini in Florence. Being taken with a suppression

of urine, he resolved, in imitation of Pomponius Atticus, to take

himself off by abstinence; and this resolution he executed like an

ancient Roman. He saw company to the last, cracked his jokes, conversed

freely, and entertained his guests with music. On the third day of his

fast, he found himself entirely freed of his complaint; but refused

taking sustenance. He said the most disagreeable part of the voyage was

past, and he should be a cursed fool indeed, to put about ship, when he

was just entering the harbour. In these sentiments he persisted, without

any marks of affectation, and thus finished his course with such

ease and serenity, as would have done honour to the firmest Stoic of

antiquity.]

But, to return from one humourist to another, you must know I have

received benefit, both from the chalybeate and the sea, and would have

used them longer, had not a most ridiculous adventure, by making me the

town-talk, obliged me to leave the place; for I can’t bear the thoughts

of affording a spectacle to the multitude. Yesterday morning, at six

o’clock, I went down to the bathing-place, attended by my servant

Clinker, who waited on the beach as usual--The wind blowing from the

north, and the weather being hazy, the water proved so chill, that when

I rose from my first plunge, I could not help sobbing and bawling out,

from the effects of the cold. Clinker, who heard me cry, and saw me

indistinctly a good way without the guide, buffetting the waves, took it

for granted I was drowning, and rushing into the sea, clothes and all,

overturned the guide in his hurry to save his master. I had swam out

a few strokes, when hearing a noise, I turned about and saw Clinker,

already up to his neck, advancing towards me, with all the wildness of

terror in his aspect--Afraid he would get out of his depth, I made haste

to meet him, when, all of a sudden, he seized me by one ear, dragged me

bellowing with pain upon the dry beach, to the astonishment of all the

people, men, and women, and children there assembled.

I was so exasperated by the pain of my ear, and the disgrace of being

exposed in such an attitude, that, in the first transport I struck him

down; then, running back into the sea, took shelter in the machine where

my clothes had been deposited. I soon recollected myself so far as to do

justice to the poor fellow, who, in great simplicity of heart, had acted

from motives of fidelity and affection--Opening the door of the machine,

which was immediately drawn on shore, I saw him standing by the wheel,

dropping like a water-work, and trembling from head to foot; partly from

cold, and partly from the dread of having offended his master--I made

my acknowledgments for the blow he had received, assured him I was

not angry, and insisted upon his going home immediately, to shift his

clothes; a command which he could hardly find in his heart to execute,

so well disposed was he to furnish the mob with further entertainment

at my expence. Clinker’s intention was laudable without all doubt, but,

nevertheless, I am a sufferer by his simplicity--I have had a burning

heat, and a strange buzzing noise in that ear, ever since it was so

roughly treated; and I cannot walk the street without being pointed at;

as the monster that was hauled naked a-shore upon the beach--Well, I

affirm that folly is often more provoking than knavery, aye and more

mischievous too; and whether a man had not better choose a sensible

rogue, than an honest simpleton for his servant, is no matter of doubt

with

Yours, MATT. BRAMBLE SCARBOROUGH, July 4.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR WAT,

We made a precipitate retreat from Scarborough, owing to the excessive

delicacy of our ‘squire, who cannot bear the thoughts of being

proetereuntium digito monstratus.

One morning, while he was bathing in the sea, his man Clinker took it

in his head that his master was in danger of drowning; and, in this

conceit, plunging into the water, he lugged him out naked on the beach,

and almost pulled off his ear in the operation. You may guess how this

atchievement was relished by Mr Bramble, who is impatient, irascible,

and has the most extravagant ideas of decency and decorum in the

oeconomy of his own person--In the first ebullition of his choler, he

knocked Clinker down with his fist; but he afterwards made him amends

for his outrage, and, in order to avoid further notice of the people,

among whom this incident had made him remarkable, he resolved to leave

Scarborough next day.

We set out accordingly over the moors, by the way of Whitby, and began

our journey betimes, in hopes of reaching Stockton that night; but

in this hope we were disappointed--In the afternoon, crossing a deep

gutter, made by a torrent, the coach was so hard strained, that one of

the irons, which connect the frame, snapt, and the leather sling on the

same side, cracked in the middle. The shock was so great, that my sister

Liddy struck her head against Mrs Tabitha’s nose with such violence that

the blood flowed; and Win. Jenkins was darted through a small window in

that part of the carriage next the horses, where she stuck like a bawd

in the pillory, till she was released by the hand of Mr Bramble. We

were eight miles distant from any place where we could be supplied with

chaises, and it was impossible to proceed with the coach, until the

damage should be repaired--in this dilemma, we discovered a blacksmith’s

forge on the edge of a small common, about half a mile from the scene

of our disaster, and thither the postilions made shift to draw the

carriage, slowly, while the company walked a-foot; but we found the

black-smith had been dead some days; and his wife, who had been lately

delivered, was deprived of her senses, under the care of a nurse, hired

by the parish. We were exceedingly mortified at this disappointment,

which, however, was surmounted by the help of Humphry Clinker, who is a

surprising compound of genius and simplicity. Finding the tools of

the defunct, together with some coals in the smithy, he unscrewed the

damaged iron in a twinkling, and, kindling a fire, united the broken

pieces with equal dexterity and dispatch--While he was at work upon

this operation, the poor woman in the straw, struck with the well-known

sound of the hammer and anvil, started up, and, notwithstanding all the

nurse’s efforts, came running into the smithy, where, throwing her arms

about Clinker’s neck, ‘Ah, Jacob (cried she) how could you leave me in

such a condition?’

This incident was too pathetic to occasion mirth--it brought tears into

the eyes of all present. The poor widow was put to bed again; and we

did not leave the village without doing something for her benefit--Even

Tabitha’s charity was awakened on this occasion. As for the

tender-hearted Humphry Clinker, he hammered the iron and wept at the

same time--But his ingenuity was not confined to his own province of

farrier and black-smith--It was necessary to join the leather sling,

which had been broke; and this service he likewise performed, by means

of a broken awl, which he new-pointed and ground, a little hemp, which

he spun into lingels, and a few tacks which he made for the purpose.

Upon the whole, we were in a condition to proceed in little more than

an hour; but even this delay obliged us to pass the night at

Gisborough--Next day we crossed the Tees at Stockton, which is a neat

agreeable town; and there we resolved to dine, with purpose to lie at

Durham.

Whom should we meet in the yard, when we alighted, but Martin the

adventurer? Having handed out the ladies, and conducted them into an

apartment, where he payed his compliments to Mrs Tabby, with his usual

address, he begged leave to speak to my uncle in another room; and

there, in some confusion, he made an apology for having taken the

liberty to trouble him with a letter at Stevenage. He expressed his

hope, that Mr Bramble had bestowed some consideration on his unhappy

case, and repeated his desire of being taken into his service.

My uncle, calling me into the room, told him, that we were both

very well inclined to rescue him from a way of life that was equally

dangerous and dishonourable; and that he should have no scruples in

trusting to his gratitude and fidelity, if he had any employment

for him, which he thought would suit his qualifications and his

circumstances; but that all the departments he had mentioned in his

letter, were filled up by persons of whose conduct he had no reason to

complain; of consequence he could not, without injustice, deprive any

one of them of his bread. Nevertheless, he declared himself ready to

assist him in any feasible project, either with his purse or credit.

Martin seemed deeply touched at this declaration--The tear started

in his eye, while he said, in a faultering accent--‘Worthy sir--your

generosity oppresses me--I never dreamed of troubling you for any

pecuniary assistance--indeed I have no occasion--I have been so lucky

at billiards and betting in different places, at Buxton, Harrigate,

Scarborough, and Newcastle races, that my stock in ready-money amounts

to three hundred pounds, which I would willingly employ, in prosecuting

some honest scheme of life; but my friend, justice Buzzard, has set

so many springs for my life, that I am under the necessity of either

retiring immediately to a remote part of the country, where I can enjoy

the protection of some generous patron, or of quitting the kingdom

altogether. It is upon this alternative that I now beg leave to ask your

advice. I have had information of all your route, since I had the honour

to see you at Stevenage; and, supposing you would come this way from

Scarborough, I came hither last night from Darlington, to pay you my

respects.’

‘It would be no difficult matter to provide you with an asylum in the

country (replied my uncle); but a life of indolence and obscurity

would not suit with your active and enterprizing disposition--I would

therefore advise you to try your fortune in the East Indies--I will

give you a letter to a friend in London, who will recommend you to the

direction, for a commission in the company’s service; and if that cannot

be obtained, you will at least be received as a volunteer--in which

case, you may pay for your passage, and I shall undertake to procure you

such credentials, that you will not be long without a commission.’

Martin embraced the proposal with great eagerness; it was therefore

resolved, that he should sell his horse, and take a passage by sea

for London, to execute the project without delay--In the mean time he

accompanied us to Durham, were we took up our quarters for the night.

Here, being furnished with letters from my uncle, he took his leave of

us, with strong symptoms of gratitude and attachment, and set out for

Sunderland, in order to embark in the first collier, bound for the

river Thames. He had not been gone half an hour, when we were joined

by another character, which promised something extraordinary--A tall,

meagre figure, answering, with his horse, the description of Don Quixote

mounted on Rozinante, appeared in the twilight at the inn door, while my

aunt and Liddy stood at a window in the dining-room--He wore a coat,

the cloth of which had once been scarlet, trimmed with Brandenburgs, now

totally deprived of their metal, and he had holstercaps and housing

of the same stuff and same antiquity. Perceiving ladies at the window

above, he endeavoured to dismount with the most graceful air he could

assume; but the ostler neglecting to hold the stirrup when he wheeled

off his right foot, and stood with his whole weight on the other, the

girth unfortunately gave way, the saddle turned, down came the cavalier

to the ground, and his hat and perriwig falling off, displayed a

head-piece of various colours, patched and plaistered in a woeful

condition--The ladies, at the window above, shrieked with affright, on

the supposition that the stranger had received some notable damages

in his fall; but the greatest injury he had sustained arose from the

dishonour of his descent, aggravated by the disgrace of exposing the

condition of his cranium; for certain plebeians that were about the

door, laughed aloud, in the belief that the captain had got either a

scald head, or a broken head, both equally opprobrious.

He forthwith leaped up in a fury, and snatching one of his pistols,

threatened to put the ostler to death, when another squall from the

women checked his resentment. He then bowed to the window, while he

kissed the butt-end of his pistol, which he replaced; adjusted his wig

in great confusion, and led his horse into the stable--By this time I

had come to the door, and could not help gazing at the strange figure

that presented itself to my view. He would have measured above six

feet in height had he stood upright; but he stooped very much; was very

narrow in the shoulders, and very thick in the calves of his legs, which

were cased in black spatterdashes--As for his thighs, they were long

and slender, like those of a grasshopper; his face was, at least, half

a yard in length, brown and shrivelled, with projecting cheek-bones,

little grey eyes on the greenish hue, a large hook-nose, a pointed chin,

a mouth from ear to ear, very ill furnished with teeth, and a high,

narrow fore-head, well furrowed with wrinkles. His horse was exactly

in the stile of its rider; a resurrection of dry bones, which (as we

afterwards learned) he valued exceedingly, as the only present he had

ever received in his life.

Having seen this favourite steed properly accommodated in the stable, he

sent up his compliments to the ladies, begging permission to thank them

in person for the marks of concern they had shewn at his disaster in

the court yard--As the ‘squire said they could not decently decline

his visit, he was shewn up stairs and paid his respects in the Scotch

dialect, with much formality ‘Leddies (said he), perhaps ye may be

scandaleezed at the appearance of my heed made, when it was uncovered by

accident; but I can assure you, the condition you saw it in, is neither

the effects of diseases, nor of drunkenness: but an honest scar received

in the service of my country.’ He then gave us to understand, that

having been wounded at Ticonderoga, in America, a party of Indians

rifled him, scalped him, broke his scull with the blow of a tomahawk,

and left him for dead on the field of battle; but that being afterwards

found with signs of life, he had been cured in the French hospital,

though the loss of substance could not be repaired; so that the scull

was left naked in several places, and these he covered with patches.

There is no hold by which an Englishman is sooner taken than that of

compassion--We were immediately interested in behalf of this veteran.

Even Tabby’s heart was melted; but our pity was warmed with indignation,

when we learned, that in the course of two sanguinary wars, he had been

wounded, maimed, mutilated, taken, and enslaved, without ever having

attained a higher rank than that of lieutenant--My uncle’s eyes gleamed,

and his nether lip quivered, while he exclaimed, ‘I vow to God, sir,

your case is a reproach to the service--The injustice you have met

with is so flagrant’--‘I must crave your pardon, sir (cried the other,

interrupting him), I complain of no injustice--I purchased an ensigncy

thirty years ago; and, in the course of service rose to a lieutenant,

according to my seniority’--‘But in such a length of time (resumed the

‘squire), you must have seen a great many young officers put over your

head’--‘Nevertheless (said he), I have no cause to murmur--They bought

their preferment with their money--I had no money to carry to market

that was my misfortune; but no body was to blame’--‘What! no friend

to advance a sum of money?’ (said Mr Bramble) ‘Perhaps, I might have

borrowed money for the purchase of a company (answered the other);

but that loan must have been refunded; and I did not chuse to incumber

myself with a debt of a thousand pounds, to be payed from an income

of ten shillings a-day.’ ‘So you have spent the best part of your life

(cried Mr Bramble), your youth, your blood, and your constitution,

amidst the dangers, the difficulties, the horrors and hardships of

a war, for the consideration of three or four shillings a-day a

consideration--’ ‘Sir (replied the Scot, with great warmth), you are the

man that does me injustice, if you say or think I have been actuated by

any such paltry consideration--I am a gentleman; and entered the service

as other gentlemen do, with such hopes and sentiments as honourable

ambition inspires--If I have not been lucky in the lottery of life, so

neither do I think myself unfortunate--I owe to no man a farthing; I can

always command a clean shirt, a mutton-chop, and a truss of straw; and

when I die, I shall leave effects sufficient to defray the expence of my

burial.’

My uncle assured him, he had no intention to give him the least offence,

by the observations he had made; but, on the contrary, spoke from a

sentiment of friendly regard to his interest--The lieutenant thanked

him with a stiffness of civility, which nettled our old gentleman, who

perceived that his moderation was all affected; for, whatsoever his

tongue might declare, his whole appearance denoted dissatisfaction--In

short, without pretending to judge of his military merit, I think I may

affirm, that this Caledonian is a self-conceited pedant, aukward, rude,

and disputacious--He has had the benefit of a school-education, seems

to have read a good number of books, his memory is tenacious, and he

pretends to speak several different languages; but he is so addicted to

wrangling, that he will cavil at the clearest truths, and, in the pride

of argumentation, attempt to reconcile contradictions--Whether his

address and qualifications are really of that stamp which is agreeable

to the taste of our aunt, Mrs Tabitha, or that indefatigable maiden is

determined to shoot at every sort of game, certain it is she has begun

to practice upon the heart of the lieutenant, who favoured us with his

company to supper.

I have many other things to say of this man of war, which I shall

communicate in a post or two; mean while, it is but reasonable that you

should be indulged with some respite from those weary lucubrations of

Yours, J. MELFORD NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE, July 10.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

In my last I treated you with a high flavoured dish, in the character

of the Scotch lieutenant, and I must present him once more for your

entertainment. It was our fortune to feed upon him the best part of

three days; and I do not doubt that he will start again in our way

before we shall have finished our northern excursion. The day after our

meeting with him at Durham proved so tempestuous that we did not choose

to proceed on our journey; and my uncle persuaded him to stay till

the weather should clear up, giving him, at the same time, a general

invitation to our mess. The man has certainly gathered a whole budget

of shrewd observations, but he brings them forth in such an ungracious

manner as would be extremely disgusting, if it was not marked by that

characteristic oddity which never fails to attract the attention--He and

Mr Bramble discoursed, and even disputed, on different subjects in war,

policy, the belles lettres, law, and metaphysics; and sometimes they

were warmed into such altercation as seemed to threaten an abrupt

dissolution of their society; but Mr Bramble set a guard over his own

irascibility, the more vigilantly as the officer was his guest; and

when, in spite of all his efforts, he began to wax warm, the other

prudently cooled in the same proportion.

Mrs Tabitha chancing to accost her brother by the familiar diminutive

of Matt, ‘Pray, sir (said the lieutenant), ‘is your name Matthias?’ You

must know it is one of our uncle’s foibles to be ashamed of his name

Matthew, because it is puritanical; and this question chagrined him

so much, that he answered, ‘No, by G-d!’ in a very abrupt tone of

displeasure.--The Scot took umbrage at the manner of his reply, and

bristling up, ‘If I had known (said he) that you did not care to tell

your name, I should not have asked the question--The leddy called you

Matt, and I naturally thought it was Matthias:--perhaps, it may be

Methuselah, or Metrodorus, or Metellus, or Mathurinus, or Malthinnus, or

Matamorus, or--’ ‘No (cried my uncle laughing), it is neither of those,

captain: my name is Matthew Bramble, at, your service.--The truth is,

have a foolish pique at the name of Matthew, because it favours of

those canting hypocrites, who, in Cromwell’s time, christened all their

children by names taken from the scripture.’ ‘A foolish pique indeed.

(cried Mrs Tabby), and even sinful, to fall out with your name because

it is taken from holy writ.--I would have you to know, you was called

after great-uncle Matthew ap Madoc ap Meredith, esquire, of Llanwysthin,

in Montgomeryshire, justice of the quorum, and crusty ruttleorum, a

gentleman of great worth and property, descended in a strait line, by

the female side, from Llewellyn, prince of Wales.’

This genealogical anecdote seemed to make some impression upon the

North-Briton, who bowed very low to the descendant of Llewellyn, and

observed that he himself had the honour of a scriptural nomination. The

lady expressing a desire of knowing his address, he said, he designed

himself Lieutenant Obadiah Lismahago; and in order to assist her memory,

he presented her with a slip of paper inscribed with these three words,

which she repeated with great emphasis, declaring, it was one of the

most noble and sonorous names she had ever heard. He observed that

Obadiah was an adventitious appellation, derived from his

great-grandfather, who had been one of the original covenanters; but

Lismahago was the family surname, taken from a place in Scotland so called.

He likewise dropped some hints about the antiquity of his pedigree, adding,

with a smile of self-denial, Sed genus et proavos, et quoe non fecimus

ipsi, vix ea nostra voco, which quotation he explained in deference

to the ladies; and Mrs Tabitha did not fail to compliment him on his

modesty in waving the merit of his ancestry, adding, that it was the

less necessary to him, as he had such a considerable fund of his

own. She now began to glew herself to his favour with the grossest

adulation.--She expatiated upon the antiquity and virtues of the

Scottish nation, upon their valour, probity, learning, and politeness.

She even descended to encomiums on his own personal address, his

gallantry, good sense, and erudition.--She appealed to her brother,

whether the captain was not the very image of our cousin governor

Griffith. She discovered a surprising eagerness to know the particulars

of his life, and asked a thousand questions concerning his atchievements

in war; all which Mr Lismahago answered with a sort of jesuitical

reserve, affecting a reluctance to satisfy her curiosity on a subject

that concerned his own exploits.

By dint of her interrogations, however, we learned, that he and ensign

Murphy had made their escape from the French hospital at Montreal, and

taken to the woods, in hope of reaching some English settlement; but

mistaking their route, they fell in with a party of Miamis, who carried

them away in captivity. The intention of these Indians was to give one

of them as an adopted son to a venerable sachem, who had lost his own

in the course of the war, and to sacrifice the other according to the

custom of the country. Murphy, as being the younger and handsomer of the

two, was designed to fill the place of the deceased, not only as the

son of the sachem, but as the spouse of a beautiful squaw, to whom his

predecessor had been betrothed; but in passing through the different

whigwhams or villages of the Miamis, poor Murphy was so mangled by the

women and children, who have the privilege of torturing all prisoners

in their passage, that, by the time they arrived at the place of the

sachem’s residence, he was rendered altogether unfit for the purposes of

marriage: it was determined therefore, in the assembly of the warriors,

that ensign Murphy should be brought to the stake, and that the lady

should be given to lieutenant Lismahago, who had likewise received his

share of torments, though they had not produced emasculation.--A joint

of one finger had been cut, or rather sawed off with a rusty knife; one

of his great toes was crushed into a mash betwixt two stones; some of

his teeth were drawn, or dug out with a crooked nail; splintered reeds

had been thrust up his nostrils and other tender parts; and the calves

of his legs had been blown up with mines of gunpowder dug in the flesh

with the sharp point of the tomahawk.

The Indians themselves allowed that Murphy died with great heroism,

singing, as his death song, the Drimmendoo, in concert with Mr

Lismahago, who was present at the solemnity. After the warriors and the

matrons had made a hearty meal upon the muscular flesh which they pared

from the victim, and had applied a great variety of tortures, which he

bore without flinching, an old lady, with a sharp knife, scooped out

one of his eyes, and put a burning coal in the socket. The pain of this

operation was so exquisite that he could not help bellowing, upon which

the audience raised a shout of exultation, and one of the warriors

stealing behind him, gave him the coup de grace with a hatchet.

Lismahago’s bride, the squaw Squinkinacoosta, distinguished herself on

this occasion.--She shewed a great superiority of genius in the tortures

which she contrived and executed with her own hands.--She vied with the

stoutest warrior in eating the flesh of the sacrifice; and after all

the other females were fuddled with dram-drinking, she was not so

intoxicated but that she was able to play the game of the platter with

the conjuring sachem, and afterwards go through the ceremony of her own

wedding, which was consummated that same evening. The captain had lived

very happily with this accomplished squaw for two years, during which

she bore him a son, who is now the representative of his mother’s tribe;

but, at length, to his unspeakable grief, she had died of a fever,

occasioned by eating too much raw bear, which they had killed in a

hunting excursion.

By this time, Mr Lismahago was elected sachem, acknowledged first

warrior of the Badger tribe, and dignified with the name or epithet of

Occacanastaogarora, which signifies nimble as a weasel; but all these

advantages and honours he was obliged to resign, in consequence of being

exchanged for the orator of the community, who had been taken prisoner

by the Indians that were in alliance with the English. At the peace, he

had sold out upon half pay, and was returned to Britain, with a view

to pass the rest of his life in his own country, where he hoped to

find some retreat where his slender finances would afford him a decent

subsistence. Such are the outlines of Mr Lismahago’s history, to which

Tabitha did seriously incline her ear;--indeed, she seemed to be taken

with the same charms that captivated the heart of Desdemona, who loved

the Moor for the dangers he had past.

The description of poor Murphy’s sufferings, which threw my sister Liddy

into a swoon, extracted some sighs from the breast of Mrs Tabby: when

she understood he had been rendered unfit for marriage, she began to

spit, and ejaculated, ‘Jesus, what cruel barbarians!’ and she made wry

faces at the lady’s nuptial repast; but she was eagerly curious to know

the particulars of her marriage-dress; whether she wore high-breasted

stays or bodice, a robe of silk or velvet, and laces of Mechlin or

minionette--she supposed, as they were connected with the French,

she used rouge, and had her hair dressed in the Parisian fashion. The

captain would have declined giving a catagorical explanation of all

these particulars, observing, in general, that the Indians were

too tenacious of their own customs to adopt the modes of any nation

whatsoever; he said, moreover, that neither the simplicity of their

manners nor the commerce of their country, would admit of those articles

of luxury which are deemed magnificence in Europe; and that they were

too virtuous and sensible to encourage the introduction of any fashion

which might help to render them corrupt and effeminate.

These observations served only to inflame her desire of knowing the

particulars about which she had enquired; and, with all his evasion,

he could not help discovering the following circumstances--that

his princess had neither shoes, stockings, shift, nor any kind of

linen--that her bridal dress consisted of a petticoat of red bays, and a

fringed blanket, fastened about her shoulders with a copper skewer; but

of ornaments she had great plenty.--Her hair was curiously plaited, and

interwoven with bobbins of human bone--one eye-lid was painted green,

and the other yellow; the cheeks were blue, the lips white, the teeth

red, and there was a black list drawn down the middle of the forehead

as far as the tip of the nose--a couple of gaudy parrot’s feathers were

stuck through the division of the nostrils--there was a blue stone set

in the chin, her ear-rings consisted of two pieces of hickery, of the

size and shape of drum-sticks--her arms and legs were adorned with

bracelets of wampum--her breast glittered with numerous strings of glass

beads--she wore a curious pouch, or pocket of woven grass, elegantly

painted with various colours--about her neck was hung the fresh scalp

of a Mohawk warrior, whom her deceased lover had lately slain in

battle--and, finally, she was anointed from head to foot with bear’s

grease, which sent forth a most agreeable odour.

One would imagine that these paraphernalia would not have been much

admired by a modern fine lady; but Mrs Tabitha was resolved to approve

of all the captains connexions.--She wished, indeed, the squaw had been

better provided with linen; but she owned there was much taste and

fancy in her ornaments; she made no doubt, therefore, that madam

Squinkinacoosta was a young lady of good sense and rare accomplishments,

and a good christian at bottom. Then she asked whether his consort had

been high church or low-church, presbyterian or anabaptist, or had been

favoured with any glimmering of the new light of the gospel? When he

confessed that she and her whole nation were utter strangers to the

christian faith, she gazed at him with signs of astonishment, and

Humphry Clinker, who chanced to be in the room, uttered a hollow groan.

After some pause, ‘In the name of God, captain Lismahago (cried she),

what religion do they profess?’ ‘As to religion, madam (answered

the lieutenant), it is among those Indians a matter of great

simplicity--they never heard of any Alliance between Church and

State.--They, in general, worship two contending principles; one the

Fountain of all Good, the other the source of all evil. The common

people there, as in other countries, run into the absurdities of

superstition; but sensible men pay adoration to a Supreme Being, who

created and sustains the universe.’ ‘O! what pity (exclaimed the pious

Tabby), that some holy man has not been inspired to go and convert these

poor heathens!’

The lieutenant told her, that while he resided among them, two French

missionaries arrived, in order to convert them to the catholic religion;

but when they talked of mysteries and revelations, which they could

neither explain nor authenticate, and called in the evidence of miracles

which they believed upon hearsay; when they taught that the Supreme

Creator of Heaven and Earth had allowed his only Son, his own equal in

power and glory, to enter the bowels of a woman, to be born as a

human creature, to be insulted, flagellated, and even executed as a

malefactor; when they pretended to create God himself, to swallow,

digest, revive, and multiply him ad infinitum, by the help of a little

flour and water, the Indians were shocked at the impiety of their

presumption.--They were examined by the assembly of the sachems

who desired them to prove the divinity of their mission by some

miracle.--They answered, that it was not in their power.--‘If you were

really sent by Heaven for our conversion (said one of the sachems), you

would certainly have some supernatural endowments, at least you would

have the gift of tongues, in order to explain your doctrine to the

different nations among which you are employed; but you are so ignorant

of our language, that you cannot express yourselves even on the most

trifling subjects.’ In a word, the assembly were convinced of their

being cheats, and even suspected them of being spies: they ordered them

a bag of Indian corn apiece, and appointed a guide to conduct them to

the frontiers; but the missionaries having more zeal than discretion,

refused to quit the vineyard.--They persisted in saying mass, in

preaching, baptizing, and squabbling with the conjurers, or priests

of the country, till they had thrown the whole community into

confusion.--Then the assembly proceeded to try them as impious

impostors, who represented the Almighty as a trifling, weak, capricious

being, and pretended to make, unmake, and reproduce him at pleasure;

they were, therefore, convicted of blasphemy and sedition, and condemned

to the stake, where they died singing Salve regina, in a rapture of joy,

for the crown of martyrdom which they had thus obtained.

In the course of this conversation, lieutenant Lismahago dropt some

hints by which it appeared he himself was a free-thinker. Our aunt

seemed to be startled at certain sarcasms he threw out against the creed

of saint Athanasius--He dwelt much upon the words, reason, philosophy,

and contradiction in terms--he bid defiance to the eternity of

hell-fire; and even threw such squibs at the immortality of the soul, as

singed a little the whiskers of Mrs Tabitha’s faith; for, by this

time she began to look upon Lismahago as a prodigy of learning and

sagacity.--In short, he could be no longer insensible to the advances

she made towards his affection; and although there was something

repulsive in his nature, he overcame it so far as to make some return

to her civilities.--Perhaps, he thought it would be no bad scheme, in

a superannuated lieutenant on half-pay, to effect a conjunction with an

old maid, who, in all probability, had fortune enough to keep him easy

and comfortable in the fag-end of his days--An ogling correspondence

forthwith commenced between this amiable pair of originals--He began

to sweeten the natural acidity of his discourse with the treacle of

compliment and commendation--He from time to time offered her snuff, of

which he himself took great quantities, and even made her a present of a

purse of silk grass, woven by the hands of the amiable Squinkinacoosta,

who had used it as a shot-pouch in her hunting expeditions.

From Doncaster northwards, all the windows of all the inns are scrawled

with doggeral rhimes, in abuse of the Scotch nation; and what surprised

me very much, I did not perceive one line written in the way of

recrimination--Curious to hear what Lismahago would say on this subject,

I pointed out to him a very scurrilous epigram against his countrymen,

which was engraved on one of the windows of the parlour where we

sat.--He read it with the most starched composure; and when I asked his

opinion of the poetry, ‘It is vara terse and vara poignant (said he);

but with the help of a wat dish-clout, it might be rendered more clear

and parspicuous.--I marvel much that some modern wit has not published a

collection of these essays under the title of the Glaziers Triumph over

Sawney the Scot--I’m persuaded it would be a vara agreeable offering to

the patriots of London and Westminster.’ When I expressed some surprize

that the natives of Scotland, who travel this way, had not broke all the

windows upon the road, ‘With submission (replied the lieutenant), that

were but shallow policy--it would only serve to make the satire more

cutting and severe; and I think it is much better to let it stand in the

window, than have it presented in the reckoning.’

My uncle’s jaws began to quiver with indignation.--He said, the

scribblers of such infamous stuff deserved to be scourged at the cart’s

tail for disgracing their country with such monuments of malice and

stupidity.--‘These vermin (said he) do not consider, that they are

affording their fellow subjects, whom they abuse, continual matter

of self-gratulation, as well as the means of executing the most manly

vengeance that can be taken for such low, illiberal attacks. For my

part, I admire the philosophic forbearance of the Scots, as much as I

despise the insolence of those wretched libellers, which is akin to

the arrogance of the village cock, who never crows but upon his own

dunghill.’ The captain, with an affectation of candour, observed, that

men of illiberal minds were produced in every soil; that in supposing

those were the sentiments of the English in general, he should pay

too great a compliment to is own country, which was not of consequence

enough to attract the envy of such a flourishing and powerful people.

Mrs Tabby broke forth again in praise of his moderation, and declared

that Scotland was the soil which produced every virtue under heaven.

When Lismahago took his leave for the night, she asked her brother

if the captain was not the prettiest gentleman he had ever seen; and

whether there was not something wonderfully engaging in his aspect?--Mr

Bramble having eyed her sometime in silence, ‘Sister (said he), the

lieutenant is, for aught I know, an honest man and a good officer--he

has a considerable share of understanding, and a title to more

encouragement than he seems to have met with in life; but I cannot, with

a safe conscience, affirm, that he is the prettiest gentleman I ever

saw; neither can I descern any engaging charm in his countenance, which,

I vow to God, is, on the contrary, very hard-favoured and forbidding.’

I have endeavoured to ingratiate myself with this North-Briton, who is

really a curiosity; but he has been very shy of my conversation ever

since I laughed at his asserting that the English tongue was spoke with

more propriety at Edinburgh than at London. Looking at me with a double

squeeze of souring in his aspect, ‘If the old definition be true (said

he), that risibility is the distinguishing characteristic of a rational

creature, the English are the most distinguished for rationality of any

people I ever knew.’ I owned, that the English were easily struck with

any thing that appeared ludicrous, and apt to laugh accordingly; but it

did not follow, that, because they were more given to laughter, they had

more rationality than their neighbours: I said, such an inference

would be an injury to the Scots, who were by no means defective in

rationality, though generally supposed little subject to the impressions

of humour.

The captain answered, that this supposition must have been deduced

either from their conversation or their compositions, of which the

English could not possibly judge with precision, as they did not

understand the dialect used by the Scots in common discourse, as well

as in their works of humour. When I desired to know what those works

of humour were, he mentioned a considerable number of pieces, which

he insisted were equal in point of humour to any thing extant in any

language dead or living--He, in particular, recommended a collection of

detached poems, in two small volumes, intituled, The Ever-Green, and

the works of Allan Ramsay, which I intend to provide myself with at

Edinburgh.--He observed, that a North-Briton is seen to a disadvantage

in an English company, because he speaks in a dialect that they can’t

relish, and in a phraseology which they don’t understand.--He therefore

finds himself under a restraint, which is a great enemy to wit and

humour.--These are faculties which never appear in full lustre, but when

the mind is perfectly at ease, and, as an excellent writer says, enjoys

her elbow-room.

He proceeded to explain his assertion that the English language was

spoken with greater propriety at Edinburgh than in London. He said, what

we generally called the Scottish dialect was, in fact, true, genuine old

English, with a mixture of some French terms and idioms, adopted in a

long intercourse betwixt the French and Scotch nations; that the modern

English, from affectation and false refinement, had weakened, and even

corrupted their language, by throwing out the guttural sounds, altering

the pronunciation and the quantity, and disusing many words and terms

of great significance. In consequence of these innovations, the works

of our best poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, and even Shakespeare, were

become, in many parts, unintelligible to the natives of South Britain,

whereas the Scots, who retain the antient language, understand them

without the help of a glossary. ‘For instance (said he), how have

your commentators been puzzled by the following expression in the

Tempest--He’s gentle and not fearful: as if it was a paralogism to say,

that being gentle, he must of course be courageous: but the truth is,

one of the original meanings, if not the sole meaning, of that word was,

noble, high-minded; and to this day, a Scotch woman, in the situation of

the young lady in the Tempest, would express herself nearly in the same

terms--Don’t provoke him; for being gentle, that is, high-spirited, he

won’t tamely bear an insult. Spenser, in the very first stanza of his

Fairy Queen, says,

A gentle knight was pricking on the plain;

Which knight, far from being tame and fearful, was so stout that

Nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

To prove that we had impaired the energy of our language by false

refinement, he mentioned the following words, which, though widely

different in signification, are pronounced exactly in the same manner

wright, write, right, rite; but among the Scots, these words are as

different in pronunciation, as they are in meaning and orthography;

and this is the case with many others which he mentioned by way of

illustration.--He, moreover, took notice, that we had (for what reason

he could never learn) altered the sound of our vowels from that which is

retained by all the nations in Europe; an alteration which rendered

the language extremely difficult to foreigners, and made it

almost impracticable to lay down general rules for orthography and

pronunciation. Besides, the vowels were no longer simple sounds in

the mouth of an Englishman, who pronounced both i and u as dipthongs.

Finally, he affirmed, that we mumbled our speech with our lips and

teeth, and ran the words together without pause or distinction, in such

a manner, that a foreigner, though he understood English tolerably well,

was often obliged to have recourse to a Scotchman to explain what a

native of England had said in his own language.

The truth of this remark was confirmed by Mr Bramble from his own

experience; but he accounted for it on another principle. He said,

the same observation would hold in all languages; that a Swiss talking

French was more easily understood than a Parisian, by a foreigner who

had not made himself master of the language; because every language

had its peculiar recitative, and it would always require more pains,

attention, and practice, to acquire both the words and the music, than

to learn the words only; and yet no body would deny, that the one

was imperfect without the other: he therefore apprehended, that the

Scotchman and the Swiss were better understood by learners, because they

spoke the words only, without the music, which they could not rehearse.

One would imagine this check might have damped the North Briton; but it

served only to agitate his humour for disputation.--He said, if every

nation had its own recitative or music, the Scots had theirs, and the

Scotchman who had not yet acquired the cadence of the English, would

naturally use his own in speaking their language; therefore, if he

was better understood than the native, his recitative must be more

intelligible than that of the English; of consequence, the dialect of

the Scots had an advantage over that of their fellow-subjects, and this

was another strong presumption that the modern English had corrupted

their language in the article of pronunciation.

The lieutenant was, by this time, become so polemical, that every time

he opened his mouth out flew a paradox, which he maintained with all the

enthusiasm of altercation; but all his paradoxes favoured strong of a

partiality for his own country. He undertook to prove that poverty was

a blessing to a nation; that oatmeal was preferable to wheat-flour; and

that the worship of Cloacina, in temples which admitted both sexes, and

every rank of votaries promiscuously, was a filthy species of idolatry

that outraged every idea of delicacy and decorum. I did not so much

wonder at his broaching these doctrines, as at the arguments, equally

whimsical and ingenious, which he adduced in support of them.

In fine, lieutenant Lismahago is a curiosity which I have not yet

sufficiently perused; and therefore I shall be sorry when we lose his

company, though, God knows, there is nothing very amiable in his manner

or disposition.--As he goes directly to the south-west division of

Scotland, and we proceed in the road to Berwick, we shall part tomorrow

at a place called Feltonbridge; and, I dare say, this separation will

be very grievous to our aunt Mrs Tabitha, unless she has received some

flattering assurance of his meeting her again. If I fail in my purpose

of entertaining you with these unimportant occurrences, they will at

least serve as exercises of patience, for which you are indebted to

Yours always, J. MELFORD MORPETH, July 13.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR DOCTOR,

I have now reached the northern extremity of England, and see, close to

my chamber-window, the Tweed gliding through the arches of that bridge

which connects this suburb to the town of Berwick.--Yorkshire you have

seen, and therefore I shall say nothing of that opulent province.

The city of Durham appears like a confused heap of stones and brick,

accumulated so as to cover a mountain, round which a river winds its

brawling course. The Streets are generally narrow, dark, and unpleasant,

and many of them almost impassible in consequence of their declivity.

The cathedral is a huge gloomy pile; but the clergy are well lodged.--

The bishop lives in a princely manner--the golden prebends keep

plentiful tables--and, I am told, there is some good sociable company in

the place; but the country, when viewed from the top of Gateshead-Fell,

which extends to Newcastle, exhibits the highest scene of cultivation

that ever I beheld. As for Newcastle, it lies mostly in a bottom, on the

banks of the Tyne, and makes an appearance still more disagreeable than

that of Durham; but it is rendered populous and rich by industry and

commerce; and the country lying on both sides the river, above the town,

yields a delightful prospect of agriculture and plantation. Morpeth and

Alnwick are neat, pretty towns, and this last is famous for the castle

which has belonged so many ages to the noble house of Piercy, earls of

Northumberland.--It is, doubtless, a large edifice, containing a great

number of apartments, and stands in a commanding situation; but the

strength of it seems to have consisted not so much in its site, or the

manner in which it is fortified, as in the valour of its defendants.

Our adventures since we left Scarborough, are scarce worth reciting;

and yet I must make you acquainted with my sister Tabby’s progress in

husband-hunting, after her disappointments at Bath and London. She had

actually begun to practise upon a certain adventurer, who was in fact

a highwayman by profession; but he had been used to snares much more

dangerous than any she could lay, and escaped accordingly. Then she

opened her batteries upon an old weather-beaten Scotch lieutenant,

called Lismahago, who joined us at Durham, and is, I think, one of the

most singular personages I ever encountered--His manner is as harsh

as his countenance; but his peculiar turn of thinking, and his pack of

knowledge made up of the remnants of rarities, rendered his conversation

desirable, in spite of his pedantry and ungracious address. I have often

met with a crab-apple in a hedge, which I have been tempted to eat for

its flavour, even while I was disgusted by its austerity. The spirit of

contradiction is naturally so strong in Lismahago, that I believe in

my conscience he has rummaged, and read, and studied with indefatigable

attention, in order to qualify himself to refute established maxims, and

thus raise trophies for the gratification of polemical pride.--Such is

the asperity of his self-conceit, that he will not even acquiesce in a

transient compliment made to his own individual in particular, or to his

country in general.

When I observed, that he must have read a vast number of books to be

able to discourse on such a variety of subjects, he declared he had read

little or nothing, and asked how he should find books among the woods

of America, where he had spent the greatest part of his life. My nephew

remarking that the Scots in general were famous for their learning, he

denied the imputation, and defied him to prove it from their works--‘The

Scots (said he) have a slight tincture of letters, with which they make

a parade among people who are more illiterate than themselves; but they

may be said to float on the surface of science, and they have made very

small advances in the useful arts.’ ‘At least (cried Tabby), all

the world allows that the Scots behaved gloriously in fighting and

conquering the savages of America.’ ‘I can assure you, madam, you have

been misinformed (replied the lieutenant); in that continent the

Scots did nothing more than their duty, nor was there one corps in his

majesty’s service that distinguished itself more than another.--Those

who affected to extol the Scots for superior merit, were no friends to

that nation.’

Though he himself made free with his countrymen, he would not suffer

any other person to glance a sarcasm at them with impunity. One of the

company chancing to mention lord B--‘s inglorious peace, the lieutenant

immediately took up the cudgels in his lordship’s favour, and

argued very strenuously to prove that it was the most honourable and

advantageous peace that England had ever made since the foundation of

the monarchy.--Nay, between friends, he offered such reasons on this

subject, that I was really confounded, if not convinced.--He would not

allow that the Scots abounded above their proportion in the army and

navy of Great-Britain, or that the English had any reason to say his

countrymen had met with extraordinary encouragement in the service.

‘When a South and North-Briton (said he) are competitors for a place

or commission, which is in the disposal of an English minister or an

English general, it would be absurd to suppose that the preference will

not be given to the native of England, who has so many advantages over

his rival.--First and foremost, he has in his favour that laudable

partiality, which, Mr Addison says, never fails to cleave to the heart

of an Englishman; secondly, he has more powerful connexions, and a

greater share of parliamentary interest, by which those contests are

generally decided; and lastly, he has a greater command of money to

smooth the way to his success. For my own part (said he), I know no

Scotch officer, who has risen in the army above the rank of a subaltern,

without purchasing every degree of preferment either with money or

recruits; but I know many gentlemen of that country, who, for want of

money and interest, have grown grey in the rank of lieutenants; whereas

very few instances of this ill-fortune are to be found among the natives

of South-Britain.--Not that I would insinuate that my countrymen have

the least reason to complain. Preferment in the service, like success

in any other branch of traffic, will naturally favour those who have

the greatest stock of cash and credit, merit and capacity being supposed

equal on all sides.’

But the most hardy of all this original’s positions were these: That

commerce would, sooner or later, prove the ruin of every nation, where

it flourishes to any extent--that the parliament was the rotten part of

the British constitution--that the liberty of the press was a national

evil--and that the boasted institution of juries, as managed in England,

was productive of shameful perjury and flagrant injustice. He observed,

that traffick was an enemy to all the liberal passions of the soul,

founded on the thirst of lucre, a sordid disposition to take advantage

of the necessities of our fellow creatures.--He affirmed, the nature

of commerce was such, that it could not be fixed or perpetuated, but,

having flowed to a certain height, would immediately begin to ebb, and

so continue till the channels should be left almost dry; but there

was no instance of the tide’s rising a second time to any considerable

influx in the same nation. Mean while the sudden affluence occasioned

by trade, forced open all the sluices of luxury and overflowed the land

with every species of profligacy and corruption; a total pravity of

manners would ensue, and this must be attended with bankruptcy and ruin.

He observed of the parliament, that the practice of buying boroughs,

and canvassing for votes, was an avowed system of venality, already

established on the ruins of principle, integrity, faith, and good order,

in consequence of which the elected and the elector, and, in short, the

whole body of the people, were equally and universally contaminated and

corrupted. He affirmed, that of a parliament thus constituted, the crown

would always have influence enough to secure a great majority in its

dependence, from the great number of posts, places, and pensions it

had to bestow; that such a parliament would (as it had already done)

lengthen the term of its sitting and authority, whenever the prince

should think it for his interest to continue the representatives, for,

without doubt, they had the same right to protect their authority ad

infinitum, as they had to extend it from three to seven years.--With a

parliament, therefore, dependent upon the crown, devoted to the prince,

and supported by a standing army, garbled and modelled for the purpose,

any king of England may, and probably some ambitious sovereign will,

totally overthrow all the bulwarks of the constitution; for it is not

to be supposed that a prince of high spirit will tamely submit to be

thwarted in all his measures, abused and insulted by a populace of

unbridled ferocity, when he has it in his power to crush all opposition

under his feet with the concurrence of the legislature. He said, he

should always consider the liberty of the press as a national evil,

while it enabled the vilest reptile to soil the lustre of the most

shining merit, and furnished the most infamous incendiary with the means

of disturbing the peace and destroying the good order of the community.

He owned, however, that under due restrictions, it would be a valuable

privilege; but affirmed, that at present there was no law in England

sufficient to restrain it within proper bounds.

With respect to juries, he expressed himself to this effect:--juries

are generally composed of illiterate plebeians, apt to be mistaken,

easily misled, and open to sinister influence; for if either of the

parties to be tried, can gain over one of the twelve jurors, he has

secured the verdict in his favour; the juryman thus brought over will,

in despight of all evidence and conviction, generally hold out till his

fellows are fatigued, and harassed, and starved into concurrence; in

which case the verdict is unjust, and the jurors are all perjured: but

cases will often occur, when the jurors are really divided in opinion,

and each side is convinced in opposition to the other; but no verdict

will be received, unless they are unanimous, and they are all bound, not

only in conscience, but by oath, to judge and declare according to their

conviction.--What then will be the consequence?--They must either

starve in company, or one side must sacrifice their conscience to their

convenience, and join in a verdict which they believe to be false. This

absurdity is avoided in Sweden, where a bare majority is sufficient; and

in Scotland, where two thirds of the jury are required to concur in the

verdict.

You must not imagine that all these deductions were made on his part,

without contradictions on mine.--No--the truth is, I found myself piqued

in point of honour, at his pretending to be so much wiser than his

neighbours.--I questioned all his assertions, started innumerable

objections, argued and wrangled with uncommon perseverance, and grew

very warm, and even violent, in the debate.--Sometimes he was puzzled,

and once or twice, I think, fairly refuted; but from those falls he rose

again, like Antaeus, with redoubled vigour, till at length I was tired,

exhausted, and really did not know how to proceed, when luckily he

dropped a hint, by which he discovered he had been bred to the law;

a confession which enabled me to retire from the dispute with a good

grace, as it could not be supposed that a man like me, who had been bred

to nothing, should be able to cope with a veteran in his own profession.

I believe, however, that I shall for some time continue to chew the cud

of reflection upon many observations which this original discharged.

Whether our sister Tabby was really struck with his conversation, or is

resolved to throw at every thing she meets in the shape of a man, till

she can fasten the matrimonial noose, certain it is, she has taken

desperate strides towards the affection of Lismahago, who cannot be said

to have met her half way, though he does not seem altogether insensible

to her civilities.--She insinuated more than once how happy we should be

to have his company through that part of Scotland which we proposed

to visit, till at length he plainly told us, that his road was totally

different from that which we intended to take; that, for his part, his

company would be of very little service to us in our progress, as he was

utterly unacquainted with the country, which he had left in his early

youth, consequently, he could neither direct us in our enquiries, nor

introduce us to any family of distinction. He said, he was stimulated

by an irresistible impulse to revisit the paternus lar, or patria domus,

though he expected little satisfaction, inasmuch as he understood that

his nephew, the present possessor, was but ill qualified to support the

honour of the family.--He assured us, however, as we design to return by

the west road, that he will watch our motions, and endeavour to pay his

respects to us at Dumfries.--Accordingly he took his leave of us at a

place half way betwixt Morpeth and Alnwick, and pranced away in great

state, mounted on a tall, meagre, raw-boned, shambling grey gelding,

without e’er a tooth in his head, the very counter-part of the rider;

and, indeed, the appearance of the two was so picturesque, that I would

give twenty guineas to have them tolerably presented on canvas.

Northumberland is a fine county, extending to the Tweed, which is a

pleasant pastoral stream; but you will be surprised when I tell you

that the English side of that river is neither so well cultivated nor

so populous as the other.--The farms are thinly scattered, the lands

uninclosed, and scarce a gentleman’s seat is to be seen in some miles

from the Tweed; whereas the Scots are advanced in crowds to the very

brink of the river, so that you may reckon above thirty good houses, in

the compass of a few miles, belonging to proprietors whose ancestors had

fortified castles in the same situations, a circumstance that shews what

dangerous neighbours the Scots must have formerly been to the northern

counties of England.

Our domestic oeconomy continues on the old footing.--My sister Tabby

still adheres to methodism, and had the benefit of a sermon at Wesley’s

meeting in Newcastle; but I believe the Passion of love has in some

measure abated the fervour of devotion both in her and her woman,

Mrs Jenkins, about whose good graces there has been a violent contest

betwixt my nephew’s valet, Mr Dutton, and my man, Humphry Clinker.--Jery

has been obliged to interpose his authority to keep the peace, and to

him I have left the discussion of that important affair, which had like

to have kindled the flames of discord in the family of

Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE TWEEDMOUTH, July 15.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. at Oxon.

DEAR WAT,

In my two last you had so much of Lismahago, that I suppose you are

glad he is gone off the stage for the present.--I must now descend

to domestic occurrences.--Love, it seems, is resolved to assert his

dominion over all the females of our family.--After having practised

upon poor Liddy’s heart, and played strange vagaries with our aunt

Mrs Tabitha, he began to run riot in the affections of her woman, Mrs

Winifred Jenkins, whom I have had occasion to mention more than once in

the course of our memoirs. Nature intended Jenkins for something very

different from the character of her mistress; yet custom and habit have

effected a wonderful resemblance betwixt them in many particulars. Win,

to be sure, is much younger and more agreeable in her person; she is

likewise tender-hearted and benevolent, qualities for which her mistress

is by no means remarkable, no more than she is for being of a timorous

disposition, and much subject to fits of the mother, which are the

infirmities of Win’s constitution: but then she seems to have adopted

Mrs Tabby’s manner with her cast cloaths.--She dresses and endeavours

to look like her mistress, although her own looks are much more

engaging.--She enters into her scheme of oeconomy, learns her phrases,

repeats her remarks, imitates her stile in scolding the inferior

servants, and, finally, subscribes implicitly to her system of

devotion.--This, indeed, she found the more agreeable, as it was in a

great measure introduced and confirmed by the ministry of Clinker,

with whose personal merit she seems to have been struck ever since he

exhibited the pattern of his naked skin at Marlborough.

Nevertheless, though Humphry had this double hank upon her inclinations,

and exerted all his power to maintain the conquest he had made, he found

it impossible to guard it on the side of vanity, where poor Win was as

frail as any female in the kingdom. In short, my rascal Dutton professed

himself her admirer, and, by dint of his outlandish qualifications,

threw his rival Clinker out of the saddle of her heart. Humphry may be

compared to an English pudding, composed of good wholesome flour and

suet, and Dutton to a syllabub or iced froth, which, though agreeable

to the taste, has nothing solid or substantial. The traitor not only

dazzled her, with his second-hand finery, but he fawned, and flattered,

and cringed--he taught her to take rappee, and presented her with

a snuff-box of papier mache--he supplied her with a powder for her

teeth--he mended her complexion, and he dressed her hair in the Paris

fashion--he undertook to be her French master and her dancing-master,

as well as friseur, and thus imperceptibly wound himself into her good

graces. Clinker perceived the progress he had made, and repined in

secret.--He attempted to open her eyes in the way of exhortation, and

finding it produced no effect had recourse to prayer. At Newcastle,

while he attended Mrs Tabby to the methodist meeting his rival

accompanied Mrs Jenkins to the play. He was dressed in a silk coat, made

at Paris for his former master, with a tawdry waistcoat of tarnished

brocade; he wore his hair in a great bag with a huge solitaire, and a

long sword dangled from his thigh. The lady was all of a flutter with

faded lutestring, washed gauze, and ribbons three times refreshed; but

she was most remarkable for the frisure of her head, which rose, like

a pyramid, seven inches above the scalp, and her face was primed and

patched from the chin up to the eyes; nay, the gallant himself had

spared neither red nor white in improving the nature of his own

complexion. In this attire, they walked together through the high street

to the theatre, and as they passed for players ready dressed for

acting, they reached it unmolested; but as it was still light when they

returned, and by that time the people had got information of their real

character and condition, they hissed and hooted all the way, and Mrs

Jenkins was all bespattered with dirt, as well as insulted with

the opprobrious name of painted Jezabel, so that her fright and

mortification threw her into an hysteric fit the moment she came home.

Clinker was so incensed at Dutton, whom he considered as the cause of

her disgrace, that he upbraided him severely for having turned the

poor woman’s brain. The other affected to treat him with contempt, and

mistaking his forbearance for want of courage, threatened to horse-whip

him into good manners. Humphry then came to me, humbly begging I

would give him leave to chastise my servant for his insolence--‘He has

challenged me to fight him at sword’s point (said he); but I might as

well challenge him to make a horse-shoe, or a plough iron; for I know no

more of the one than he does of the other.--Besides, it doth not become

servants to use those weapons, or to claim the privilege of gentlemen

to kill one another when they fall out; moreover, I would not have

his blood upon my conscience for ten thousand times the profit or

satisfaction I should get by his death; but if your honour won’t be

angry, I’ll engage to gee ‘en a good drubbing, that, may hap, will do

‘en service, and I’ll take care it shall do ‘en no harm.’ I said, I had

no objection to what he proposed, provided he could manage matters so as

not to be found the aggressor, in case Dutton should prosecute him for

an assault and battery.

Thus licensed, he retired; and that same evening easily provoked

his rival to strike the first blow, which Clinker returned with such

interest that he was obliged to call for quarter, declaring, at the same

time, that he would exact severe and bloody satisfaction the moment we

should pass the border, when he could run him through the body without

fear of the consequence.--This scene passed in presence of lieutenant

Lismahago, who encouraged Clinker to hazard a thrust of cold iron with

his antagonist. ‘Cold iron (cried Humphry) I shall never use against

the life of any human creature; but I am so far from being afraid of

his cold iron, that I shall use nothing in my defence but a good cudgel,

which shall always be at his service.’ In the mean time, the fair

cause of this contest, Mrs Winifred Jenkins, seemed overwhelmed with

affliction, and Mr Clinker acted much on the reserve, though he did not

presume to find fault with her conduct.

The dispute between the two rivals was soon brought to a very unexpected

issue. Among our fellow-lodgers at Berwick, was a couple from London,

bound to Edinburgh, on the voyage of matrimony. The female was the

daughter and heiress of a pawnbroker deceased, who had given her

guardians the slip, and put herself under the tuition of a tall

Hibernian, who had conducted her thus far in quest of a clergyman to

unite them in marriage, without the formalities required by the law

of England. I know not how the lover had behaved on the road, so as to

decline in the favour of his inamorata; but, in all probability, Dutton

perceived a coldness on her side, which encouraged him to whisper,

it was a pity she should have cast affections upon a taylor, which he

affirmed the Irishman to be. This discovery completed her disgust, of

which my man taking the advantage, began to recommend himself to her

good graces, and the smooth-tongued rascal found no difficulty to

insinuate himself into the place of her heart, from which the other had

been discarded--Their resolution was immediately taken. In the morning,

before day, while poor Teague lay snoring a-bed, his indefatigable rival

ordered a post-chaise, and set out with the lady for Coldstream, a few

miles up the Tweed, where there was a parson who dealt in this branch of

commerce, and there they were noosed, before the Irishman ever dreamt

of the matter. But when he got up at six o’clock, and found the bird was

flown, he made such a noise as alarmed the whole house. One of the first

persons he encountered, was the postilion returned from Coldstream,

where he had been witness to the marriage, and over and above an

handsome gratuity, had received a bride’s favour, which he now wore in

his cap--When the forsaken lover understood they were actually married,

and set out for London; and that Dutton had discovered to the lady, that

he (the Hibernian) was a taylor, he had like to have run distracted. He

tore the ribbon from the fellow’s cap, and beat it about his ears.

He swore he would pursue him to the gates of hell, and ordered

a post-chaise and four to be got ready as soon as possible; but,

recollecting that his finances would not admit of this way of

travelling, he was obliged to countermand this order.

For my part, I knew nothing at all of what had happened, till the

postilion brought me the keys of my trunk and portmanteau, which he had

received from Dutton, who sent me his respects, hoping I would excuse

him for his abrupt departure, as it was a step upon which his fortune

depended. Before I had time to make my uncle acquainted with this

event, the Irishman burst into my chamber, without any introduction,

exclaiming,--‘By my soul, your sarvant has robbed me of five

thousand pounds, and I’ll have satisfaction, if I should be hanged

tomorrow.’--When I asked him who he was, ‘My name (said he) is Master

Macloughlin but it should be Leighlin Oneale, for I am come from

Tir-Owen the Great; and so I am as good a gentleman as any in Ireland;

and that rogue, your sarvant, said I was a taylor, which was as big

a lie as if he had called me the pope--I’m a man of fortune, and have

spent all I had; and so being in distress, Mr Coshgrave, the fashioner

in Shuffolk-street, tuck me out, and made me his own private shecretary:

by the same token, I was the last he bailed; for his friends obliged him

to tie himself up, that he would bail no more above ten pounds; for why,

becaase as how, he could not refuse any body that asked, and therefore

in time would have robbed himself of his whole fortune, and, if he had

lived long at that rate, must have died bankrupt very soon and so I

made my addresses to Miss Skinner, a young lady of five thousand pounds

fortune, who agreed to take me for better nor worse; and, to be sure,

this day would have put me in possession, if it had not been for that

rogue, your sarvant, who came like a tief, and stole away my property,

and made her believe I was a taylor; and that she was going to marry the

ninth part of a man: but the devil burn my soul, if ever I catch him on

the mountains of Tulloghobegly, if I don’t shew him that I’m nine times

as good a man as he, or e’er a bug of his country.’

When he had rung out his first alarm, I told him I was sorry he had

allowed himself to be so jockied; but it was no business of mine; and

that the fellow who robbed him of his bride, had likewise robbed me of

my servant--‘Didn’t I tell you then (cried he) that Rogue was his true

Christian name.--Oh if I had but one fair trust with him upon the sod,

I’d give him lave to brag all the rest of his life.’

My uncle hearing the noise, came in, and being informed of this

adventure, began to comfort Mr Oneale for the lady’s elopement;

observing that he seemed to have had a lucky escape, that it was better

she should elope before, than after marriage--The Hibernian was of a

very different opinion. He said, ‘If he had been once married, she might

have eloped as soon as she pleased; he would have taken care that she

should not have carried her fortune along with her--Ah (said he) she’s

a Judas Iscariot, and has betrayed me with a kiss; and, like Judas, she

carried the bag, and has not left me money enough to bear my expences

back to London; and so I’m come to this pass, and the rogue that was

the occasion of it has left you without a sarvant, you may put me in his

place; and by Jasus, it is the best thing you can do.’--I begged to be

excused, declaring I could put up with any inconvenience, rather than

treat as a footman the descendant of Tir-Owen the Great. I advised

him to return to his friend, Mr Cosgrave, and take his passage from

Newcastle by sea, towards which I made him a small present, and he

retired, seemingly resigned to his evil fortune. I have taken upon trial

a Scotchman, called Archy M’Alpin, an old soldier, whose last master, a

colonel, lately died at Berwick. The fellow is old and withered; but he

has been recommended to me for his fidelity, by Mrs Humphreys, a very

good sort of a woman, who keeps the inn at Tweedmouth, and is much

respected by all the travellers on this road.

Clinker, without doubt, thinks himself happy in the removal of a

dangerous rival, and he is too good a Christian, to repine at Dutton’s

success. Even Mrs Jenkins will have reason to congratulate herself upon

this event, when she cooly reflects upon the matter; for, howsoever she

was forced from her poise for a season, by snares laid for her vanity,

Humphry is certainly the north-star to which the needle of her affection

would have pointed at the long run. At present, the same vanity is

exceedingly mortified, upon finding herself abandoned by her new

admirer, in favour of another inamorata. She received the news with a

violent burst of laughter, which soon brought on a fit of crying; and

this gave the finishing blow to the patience of her mistress, which had

held out beyond all expectation. She now opened all those floodgates of

reprehension, which had been shut so long. She not only reproached

her with her levity and indiscretion, but attacked her on the score

of religion, declaring roundly that she was in a state of apostacy

and reprobation; and finally, threatened to send her a packing at this

extremity of the kingdom. All the family interceded for poor Winifred,

not even excepting her slighted swain, Mr Clinker, who, on his knees,

implored and obtained her pardon.

There was, however, another consideration that gave Mrs Tabitha some

disturbance. At Newcastle, the servants had been informed by some

wag, that there was nothing to eat in Scotland, but oat-meal and

sheep’s-heads; and lieutenant Lismahago being consulted, what he said

served rather to confirm than to refute the report. Our aunt being

apprised of this circumstance, very gravely advised her brother to

provide a sumpter horse with store of hams, tongues, bread, biscuit, and

other articles for our subsistence, in the course of our peregrination,

and Mr Bramble as gravely replied, that he would take the hint into

consideration: but, finding no such provision was made, she now revived

the proposal, observing that there was a tolerable market at Berwick,

where we might be supplied; and that my man’s horse would serve as a

beast of burthen--The ‘squire, shrugging his shoulders, eyed her askance

with a look of ineffable contempt: and, after some pause, ‘Sister (said

he), I can hardly persuade myself you are serious.’ She was so little

acquainted with the geography of the island, that she imagined we could

not go to Scotland but by sea; and, after we had passed through the town

of Berwick, when he told her we were upon Scottish ground, she could

hardly believe the assertion--If the truth must be told, the South

Britons in general are woefully ignorant in this particular. What,

between want of curiosity, and traditional sarcasms, the effect of

ancient animosity, the people at the other end of the island know as

little of Scotland as of Japan.

If I had never been in Wales, I should have been more struck with the

manifest difference in appearance betwixt the peasants and commonalty

on different sides of the Tweed. The boors of Northumberland are

lusty fellows, fresh complexioned, cleanly, and well cloathed; but the

labourers in Scotland are generally lank, lean, hard-featured, sallow,

soiled, and shabby, and their little pinched blue caps have a beggarly

effect. The cattle are much in the same stile with their drivers,

meagre, stunted, and ill equipt. When I talked to my uncle on this

subject, he said, ‘Though all the Scottish hinds would not bear to be

compared with those of the rich counties of South Britain, they would

stand very well in competition with the peasants of France, Italy, and

Savoy--not to mention the mountaineers of Wales, and the red-shanks of

Ireland.’

We entered Scotland by a frightful moor of sixteen miles, which promises

very little for the interior parts of the kingdom; but the prospect

mended as we advanced. Passing through Dunbar, which is a neat little

town, situated on the sea-side, we lay at a country inn, where our

entertainment far exceeded our expectation; but for this we cannot give

the Scots credit, as the landlord is a native of England. Yesterday we

dined at Haddington, which has been a place of some consideration, but

is now gone to decay; and in the evening arrived at this metropolis, of

which I can say very little. It is very romantic, from its situation

on the declivity of a hill, having a fortified castle at the top, and a

royal palace at the bottom. The first thing that strikes the nose of

a stranger, shall be nameless; but what first strikes the eye, is the

unconscionable height of the houses, which generally rise to five, six,

seven, and eight stories, and, in some places (as I am assured),

to twelve. This manner of building, attended with numberless

inconveniences, must have been originally owing to want of room. Certain

it is, the town seems to be full of people: but their looks, their

language, and their customs, are so different from ours, that I can

hardly believe myself in Great-Britain.

The inn at which we put up (if it may be so called) was so filthy and

disagreeable in all respects, that my uncle began to fret, and his

gouty symptoms to recur--Recollecting, however, that he had a letter

of recommendation to one Mr Mitchelson, a lawyer, he sent it by his

servant, with a compliment, importing that we would wait upon him next

day in person; but that gentleman visited us immediately, and insisted

upon our going to his own house, until he could provide lodgings for our

accommodation. We gladly accepted, of his invitation, and repaired to

his house, where we were treated with equal elegance and hospitality, to

the utter confusion of our aunt, whose prejudices, though beginning to

give way, were not yet entirely removed. To-day, by the assistance

of our friend, we are settled in convenient lodgings, up four pair

of stairs, in the High-street, the fourth story being, in this city,

reckoned more genteel than the first. The air is, in all probability,

the better; but it requires good lungs to breathe it at this distance

above the surface of the earth.--While I do remain above it, whether

higher or lower, provided I breathe at all,

I shall ever be, Dear Phillips, yours, J. MELFORD July 18.

To Dr LEWIS.

DEAR LEWIS,

That part of Scotland contiguous to Berwick, nature seems to have

intended as a barrier between two hostile nations. It is a brown desert

of considerable extent, that produces nothing but heath and fern; and

what rendered it the more dreary when we passed, there was a thick fog

that hindered us from seeing above twenty yards from the carriage--My

sister began to make wry faces, and use her smelling-bottle; Liddy

looked blank, and Mrs Jenkins dejected; but in a few hours these clouds

were dissipated; the sea appeared upon our right, and on the left the

mountains retired a little, leaving an agreeable plain betwixt them

and the beach; but, what surprised us all, this plain, to the extent of

several miles, was covered with as fine wheat as ever I saw in the most

fertile parts of South Britain--This plentiful crop is raised in the

open field, without any inclosure, or other manure than the alga marina,

or seaweed, which abounds on this coast; a circumstance which shews

that the soil and climate are favourable; but that agriculture in this

country is not yet brought to that perfection which it has attained

in England. Inclosures would not only keep the grounds warm, and the

several fields distinct, but would also protect the crop from the high

winds, which are so frequent in this part of the island.

Dunbar is well situated for trade, and has a curious bason, where ships

of small burthen may be perfectly secure; but there is little appearance

of business in the place--From thence, all the way to Edinburgh, there

is a continual succession of fine seats, belonging to noblemen and

gentlemen; and as each is surrounded by its own parks and plantation,

they produce a very pleasing effect in a country which lies otherwise

open and exposed. At Dunbar there is a noble park, with a lodge,

belonging to the Duke of Roxburgh, where Oliver Cromwell had his

head-quarters, when Lesley, at the head of a Scotch army, took

possession of the mountains in the neighbourhood, and hampered him in

such a manner, that he would have been obliged to embark and get away by

sea, had not the fanaticism of the enemy forfeited the advantage which

they had obtained by their general’s conduct--Their ministers, by

exhortation, prayer, assurance, and prophecy, instigated them to go

down and slay the Philistines in Gilgal, and they quitted their ground

accordingly, notwithstanding all that Lesley could do to restrain

the madness of their enthusiasm--When Oliver saw them in motion, he

exclaimed, ‘Praised be the Lord, he hath delivered them into the hands

of his servant!’ and ordered his troops to sing a psalm of thanksgiving,

while they advanced in order to the plain, where the Scots were routed

with great slaughter.

In the neighbourhood of Haddington, there is a gentleman’s house, in

the building of which, and the improvements about it, he is said to have

expended forty thousand pounds: but I cannot say I was much pleased

with either the architecture or the situation; though it has in front

a pastoral stream, the banks of which are laid out in a very agreeable

manner. I intended to pay my respects to Lord Elibank, whom I had

the honour to know at London many years ago. He lives in this part of

Lothian; but was gone to the North, on a visit--You have often heard

me mention this nobleman, whom I have long revered for his humanity and

universal intelligence, over and above the entertainment arising

from originality of his character--At Musselburgh, however, I had the

good-fortune to drink tea with my old friend Mr Cardonel; and at his

house I met with Dr C--, the parson of the parish, whose humour and

conversation inflamed me with a desire of being better acquainted with

his person--I am not at all surprised that these Scots make their way in

every quarter of the globe.

This place is but four miles from Edinburgh, towards which we proceeded

along the sea-shore, upon a firm bottom of smooth sand, which the tide

had left uncovered in its retreat--Edinburgh, from this avenue, is not

seen to much advantage--We had only an imperfect view of the Castle

and upper parts of the town, which varied incessantly according to the

inflexions of the road, and exhibited the appearance of detached spires

and turrets, belonging to some magnificent edifice in ruins. The palace

of Holyrood house stands on the left, as you enter the Canon-gate--This

is a street continued from hence to the gate called Nether Bow, which is

now taken away; so that there is no interruption for a long mile, from

the bottom to the top of the hill on which the castle stands in a most

imperial situation--Considering its fine pavement, its width, and the

lofty houses on each side, this would be undoubtedly one of the noblest

streets in Europe, if an ugly mass of mean buildings, called the

Lucken-Booths, had not thrust itself, by what accident I know not, into

the middle of the way, like Middle-Row in Holborn. The city stands upon

two hills, and the bottom between them; and, with all its defects, may

very well pass for the capital of a moderate kingdom.--It is full of

people, and continually resounds with the noise of coaches and other

carriages, for luxury as well as commerce. As far as I can perceive,

here is no want of provisions--The beef and mutton are as delicate

here as in Wales; the sea affords plenty of good fish; the bread is

remarkably fine; and the water is excellent, though I’m afraid not

in sufficient quantity to answer all the purposes of cleanliness and

convenience; articles in which, it must be allowed, our fellow-subjects

are a little defective--The water is brought in leaden pipes from a

mountain in the neighbourhood, to a cistern on the Castle-hill, from

whence it is distributed to public conduits in different parts of the

city. From these it is carried in barrels, on the backs of male and

female porters, up two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

pairs of stairs, for the use of particular families--Every story is

a complete house, occupied by a separate family; and the stair being

common to them all, is generally left in a very filthy condition; a man

must tread with great circumspection to get safe housed with unpolluted

shoes--Nothing can form a stronger contrast, than the difference

betwixt the outside and inside of the door, for the good-women of this

metropolis are remarkably nice in the ornaments and propriety of their

apartments, as if they were resolved to transfer the imputation from

the individual to the public. You are no stranger to their method of

discharging all their impurities from their windows, at a certain hour

of the night, as the custom is in Spain, Portugal, and some parts of

France and Italy--A practice to which I can by no means be reconciled;

for notwithstanding all the care that is taken by their scavengers to

remove this nuisance every morning by break of day, enough still remains

to offend the eyes, as well as other organs of those whom use has not

hardened against all delicacy of sensation.

The inhabitants seem insensible to these impressions, and are apt to

imagine the disgust that we avow is little better than affectation; but

they ought to have some compassion for strangers, who have not been used

to this kind of sufferance; and consider, whether it may not be worth

while to take some pains to vindicate themselves from the reproach that,

on this account, they bear among their neighbours. As to the surprising

height of their houses, it is absurd in many respects; but in one

particular light I cannot view it without horror; that is, the dreadful

situation of all the families above, in case the common staircase should

be rendered impassable by a fire in the lower stories--In order to

prevent the shocking consequences that must attend such an accident, it

would be a right measure to open doors of communication from one house

to another, on every story, by which the people might fly from such

a terrible visitation. In all parts of the world, we see the force of

habit prevailing over all the dictates of convenience and sagacity. All

the people of business at Edinburgh, and even the genteel company, may

be seen standing in crowds every day, from one to two in the afternoon,

in the open street, at a place where formerly stood a market-cross,

which (by the bye) was a curious piece of Gothic architecture, still to

be seen in lord Sommerville’s garden in this neighbourhood--I say, the

people stand in the open street from the force of custom, rather than

move a few yards to an Exchange that stands empty on one side, or to the

Parliament-close on the other, which is a noble square adorned with a

fine equestrian statue of king Charles II.--The company thus assembled,

are entertained with a variety of tunes, played upon a set of bells,

fixed in a steeple hard by--As these bells are well-toned, and the

musician, who has a salary from the city, for playing upon them with

keys, is no bad performer, the entertainment is really agreeable, and

very striking to the ears of a stranger.

The public inns of Edinburgh are still worse than those of London; but

by means of a worthy gentleman, to whom I was recommended, we have

got decent lodgings in the house of a widow gentlewoman of the name of

Lockhart; and here I shall stay until I have seen every thing that

is remarkable in and about this capital. I now begin to feel the good

effects of exercise--I eat like a farmer, sleep from mid-night till

eight in the morning without interruption, and enjoy a constant tide of

spirits, equally distant from inanition and excess; but whatever ebbs

or flows my constitution may undergo, my heart will still declare that I

am,

Dear Lewis, Your affectionate friend and servant, MATT. BRAMBLE EDR.

July 18.

To Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall.

DEAR MARY,

The ‘squire has been so kind as to rap my bit of nonsense under the

kiver of his own sheet--O, Mary Jones! Mary Jones! I have had trials and

trembulation. God help me! I have been a vixen and a griffin these many

days--Sattin has had power to temp me in the shape of van Ditton,

the young ‘squire’s wally de shamble; but by God’s grease he did

not purvail--I thoft as how, there was no arm in going to a play at

Newcastle, with my hair dressed in the Parish fashion; and as for the

trifle of paint, he said as how my complexion wanted touch, and so I

let him put it on with a little Spanish owl; but a mischievous mob of

colliers, and such promiscous ribble rabble, that could bare no smut

but their own, attacked us in the street, and called me hoar and painted

Issabel, and splashed my close, and spoiled me a complete set of blond

lace triple ruffles, not a pin the worse for the ware--They cost me

seven good sillings, to lady Griskin’s woman at London.

When I axed Mr Clinker what they meant by calling me Issabel, he put the

byebill into my hand, and I read of van Issabel a painted harlot, that

vas thrown out of a vindore, and the dogs came and licked her blood.

But I am no harlot; and, with God’s blessing, no dog shall have my poor

blood to lick: marry, Heaven forbid, amen! As for Ditton, after all his

courting, and his compliment, he stole away an Irishman’s bride, and

took a French leave of me and his master; but I vally not his going a

farting; but I have had hanger on his account--Mistriss scoulded like

mad; thof I have the comfit that all the family took my part, and even

Mr Clinker pleaded for me on his bended knee; thof, God he knows, he

had raisins enuff to complain; but he’s a good sole, abounding with

Christian meekness, and one day will meet with his reward.

And now, dear Mary, we have got to Haddingborrough, among the Scots, who

are civil enuff for our money, thof I don’t speak their lingo--But they

should not go for to impose upon foreigners; for the bills in their

houses say, they have different easements to let; and behold there is

nurro geaks in the whole kingdom, nor any thing for poor sarvants, but

a barrel with a pair of tongs thrown a-cross; and all the chairs in the

family are emptied into this here barrel once a-day; and at ten o’clock

at night the whole cargo is flung out of a back windore that looks into

some street or lane, and the maids calls gardy loo to the passengers

which signifies Lord have mercy upon you! and this is done every night

in every house in Haddingborrough; so you may guess, Mary Jones, what a

sweet savour comes from such a number of profuming pans; but they say it

is wholesome, and, truly, I believe it is; for being in the vapours, and

thinking of Issabel and Mr Clinker, I was going into a fit of astericks,

when this fiff, saving your presence, took me by the nose so powerfully

that I sneezed three times, and found myself wonderfully refreshed; and

this to be sure is the raisin why there are no fits in Haddingborrough.

I was likewise made believe, that there was nothing to be had but

oatmeal and seeps-heads; but if I hadn’t been a fool, I mought have

known there could be no heads without kerkasses--This very blessed day

I dined upon a delicate leg of Velsh mutton and cully-flower; and as

for the oat-meal, I leave that to the sarvants of the country, which are

pore drudges, many of them without shoes or stockings--Mr Clinker tells

me here is a great call of the gospel; but I wish, I wish some of

our family be not fallen off from the rite way--O, if I was given to

tailbaring, I have my own secrets to discover--There has been a deal

of huggling and flurtation betwixt mistress and an ould Scotch officer,

called Kismycago. He looks for all the orld like the scare-crow that our

gardener has set up to frite away the sparrows; and what will come of

it, the Lord knows; but come what will, it shall never be said that I

menchioned a syllabub of the matter--Remember me kindly to Saul and the

kitten--I hope they got the horn-buck, and will put it to a good yuse,

which is the constant prayer of,

Dear Molly, Your loving friend, WIN. JENKINS ADDINGBOROUGH, July 18.

To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.

DEAR PHILLIPS,

If I stay much longer at Edinburgh, I shall be changed into a downright

Caledonian--My uncle observes, that I have already acquired something of

the country accent. The people here are so social and attentive in their

civilities to strangers, that I am insensibly sucked into the channel of

their manners and customs, although they are in fact much more different

from ours than you can imagine--That difference, however, which struck

me very much at my first arrival, I now hardly perceive, and my ear is

perfectly reconciled to the Scotch accent, which I find even agreeable

in the mouth of a pretty woman--It is a sort of Doric dialect, which

gives an idea of amiable simplicity--You cannot imagine how we have

been caressed and feasted in the good town of Edinburgh of which we are

become free denizens and guild brothers, by the special favour of the

magistracy.

I had a whimsical commission from Bath, to a citizen of this metropolis.

Quin, understanding our intention to visit Edinburgh, pulled out a

guinea, and desired the favour I would drink it at a tavern, with a

particular friend and bottle-companion of his, Mr R-- C--, a lawyer of

this city--I charged myself with the commission, and, taking the guinea,

‘You see (said I) I have pocketed your bounty.’ ‘Yes (replied Quin,

laughing); and a headake into the bargain, if you drink fair.’ I made

use of this introduction to Mr C--, who received me with open arms,

and gave me the rendezvous, according to the cartel. He had provided a

company of jolly fellows, among whom I found myself extremely happy;

and did Mr C-- and Quin all the justice in my power; but, alas, I was no

more than a tiro among a troop of veterans, who had compassion upon my

youth and conveyed me home in the morning by what means I know not--Quin

was mistaken, however, as to the head-ake; the claret was too good to

treat me so roughly.

While Mr Bramble holds conferences with the graver literati of the

place, and our females are entertained at visits by the Scotch ladies,

who are the best and kindest creatures upon earth, I pass my time among

the bucks of Edinburgh; who, with a great share of spirit and vivacity,

have a certain shrewdness and self-command that is not often found

among their neighbours, in the high-day of youth and exultation--Not

a hint escapes a Scotchman that can be interpreted into offence by any

individual in the company; and national reflections are never heard--In

this particular, I must own, we are both unjust and ungrateful to the

Scots; for, as far as I am able to judge, they have a real esteem for

the natives of South-Britain; and never mention our country, but with

expressions of regard--Nevertheless, they are far from being servile

imitators of our modes and fashionable vices. All their customs and

regulations of public and private oeconomy, of business and diversion,

are in their own stile. This remarkably predominates in their looks,

their dress and manner, their music, and even their cookery. Our ‘squire

declares, that he knows not another people upon earth, so strongly

marked with a national character--Now we are upon the article of

cookery, I must own, some of their dishes are savoury, and even

delicate; but I am not yet Scotchman enough to relish their singed

sheep’s-head and haggice, which were provided at our request, one day at

Mr Mitchelson’s, where we dined--The first put me in mind of the history

of Congo, in which I had read of negroes’ heads sold publickly in

the markets; the last, being a mess of minced lights, livers, suet,

oat-meal, onions, and pepper, inclosed in a sheep’s stomach, had a very

sudden effect upon mine, and the delicate Mrs Tabby changed colour; when

the cause of our disgust was instantaneously removed at the nod of our

entertainer. The Scots, in general, are attached to this composition,

with a sort of national fondness, as well as to their oat-meal bread;

which is presented at every table, in thin triangular cakes, baked upon

a plate of iron, called a girdle; and these, many of the natives, even

in the higher ranks of life, prefer to wheaten-bread, which they have

here in perfection--You know we used to vex poor Murray of Baliol

college, by asking, if there was really no fruit but turnips in

Scotland?--Sure enough, I have seen turnips make their appearance, not

as a desert, but by way of hors d’oeuvres, or whets, as radishes are

served betwixt more substantial dishes in France and Italy; but it must

be observed, that the turnips of this country are as much superior in

sweetness, delicacy, and flavour, to those in England, as a musk-melon

is to the stock of a common cabbage. They are small and conical, of

a yellowish colour, with a very thin skin and, over and above their

agreeable taste, are valuable for their antiscorbutic quality--As to the

fruit now in season, such as cherries, gooseberries, and currants, there

is no want of them at Edinburgh; and in the gardens of some gentlemen,

who live in the neighbourhood, there is now a very favourable appearance

of apricots, peaches, nectarines, and even grapes: nay, I have seen

a very fine shew of pineapples within a few miles of this metropolis.

Indeed, we have no reason to be surprised at these particulars, when we

consider how little difference there is, in fact, betwixt this climate

and that of London.

All the remarkable places in the city and its avenues, for ten miles

around, we have visited, much to our satisfaction. In the Castle are

some royal apartments, where the sovereign occasionally resided; and

here are carefully preserved the regalia of the kingdom, consisting of

a crown, said to be of great value, a sceptre, and a sword of state,

adorned with jewels--Of these symbols of sovereignty, the people are

exceedingly jealous--A report being spread during the sitting of the

union-parliament, that they were removed to London, such a tumult arose,

that the lord commissioner would have been torn to pieces, if he had not

produced them for the satisfaction of the populace.

The palace of Holyrood-house is an elegant piece of architecture, but

sunk in an obscure, and, as I take it, unwholesome bottom, where

one would imagine it had been placed on purpose to be concealed. The

apartments are lofty, but unfurnished; and as for the pictures of

the Scottish kings, from Fergus I. to king William, they are paultry

daubings, mostly by the same hand, painted either from the imagination,

or porters hired to sit for the purpose. All the diversions of London

we enjoy at Edinburgh, in a small compass. Here is a well

conducted concert, in which several gentlemen perform on different

instruments--The Scots are all musicians--Every man you meet plays on

the flute, the violin, or violoncello; and there is one nobleman, whose

compositions are universally admired--Our company of actors is very

tolerable; and a subscription is now on foot for building a new theatre;

but their assemblies please me above all other public exhibitions.

We have been at the hunters’ ball, where I was really astonished to see

such a number of fine women--The English, who have never crossed the

Tweed, imagine erroneously, that the Scotch ladies are not remarkable

for personal attractions; but, I can declare with a safe conscience, I

never saw so many handsome females together, as were assembled on this

occasion. At the Leith races, the best company comes hither from the

remoter provinces; so that, I suppose, we had all the beauty of the

kingdom concentrated as it were into one focus; which was, indeed, so

vehement, that my heart could hardly resist its power. Between friends,

it has sustained some damage from the bright eyes of the charming miss

R[ento]n, whom I had the honour to dance with at the ball--The countess

of Melville attracted all eyes, and the admiration of all present--She

was accompanied by the agreeable miss Grieve, who made many conquests;

nor did my sister Liddy pass unnoticed in the assembly--She is become

a toast at Edinburgh, by the name of the Fair Cambrian, and has already

been the occasion of much wine-shed; but the poor girl met with an

accident at the ball, which has given us great disturbance.

A young gentleman, the express image of that rascal Wilson, went up

to ask her to dance a minuet; and his sudden appearance shocked her so

much, that she fainted away--I call Wilson a rascal, because, if he had

been really a gentleman, with honourable intentions, he would have,

ere now, appeared in his own character--I must own, my blood boils

with indignation when I think of that fellow’s presumption; and Heaven

confound me if I don’t--But I won’t be so womanish as to rail--Time

will, perhaps, furnish occasion--Thank God, the cause of Liddy’s

disorder remains a secret. The lady directress of the ball, thinking she

was overcome by the heat of the place, had her conveyed to another room,

where she soon recovered so well, as to return and join in the country

dances, in which the Scotch lasses acquit themselves with such spirit

and agility, as put their partners to the height of their mettle. I

believe our aunt, Mrs Tabitha, had entertained hopes of being able to

do some execution among the cavaliers at this assembly. She had been

several days in consultation with milliners and mantua-makers, preparing

for the occasion, at which she made her appearance in a full suit of

damask, so thick and heavy, that the sight of it alone, at this season

of the year, was sufficient to draw drops of sweat from any man

of ordinary imagination--She danced one minuet with our friend Mr

Mitchelson, who favoured her so far, in the spirit of hospitality and

politeness; and she was called out a second time by the young laird of

Ballymawhawple, who, coming in by accident, could not readily find any

other partner; but as the first was a married man, and the second payed

no particular homage to her charms, which were also over-looked by the

rest of the company, she became dissatisfied and censorious--At supper,

she observed that the Scotch gentlemen made a very good figure, when

they were a little improved by travelling; and therefore it was pity

they did not all take the benefit of going abroad. She said the women

were awkward, masculine creatures; that, in dancing, they lifted their

legs like so many colts; that they had no idea of graceful motion, and

put on their clothes in a frightful manner; but if the truth must

be told, Tabby herself was the most ridiculous figure, and the worst

dressed of the whole assembly. The neglect of the male sex rendered

her malcontent and peevish; she now found fault with every thing at

Edinburgh, and teized her brother to leave the place, when she was

suddenly reconciled to it on a religious consideration--There is a sect

of fanaticks, who have separated themselves from the established kirk,

under the name of Seceders--They acknowledge no earthly head of the

church, reject lay-patronage, and maintain the methodist doctrines of

the new birth, the new light, the efficacy of grace, the insufficiency

of works, and the operations of the spirit. Mrs Tabitha, attended by

Humphry Clinker, was introduced to one of their conventicles, where they

both received much edification; and she has had the good fortune to

come acquainted with a pious Christian, called Mr Moffat, who is very

powerful in prayer, and often assists her in private exercises of

devotion.

I never saw such a concourse of genteel company at any races in England,

as appeared on the course of Leith--Hard by, in the fields called the

Links, the citizens of Edinburgh divert themselves at a game called

golf, in which they use a curious kind of bats, tipt with horn, and

small elastic balls of leather, stuffed with feathers, rather less than

tennis balls, but of a much harder consistence--This they strike with